


Seize Me

by simplyabbey



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyabbey/pseuds/simplyabbey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss never noticed Peeta Mellark before. But there's something about what stage lights can do to a person...and Katniss is in for the summer adventure of a lifetime.  AU, Modern World **Updating every Friday**  Appeared on Everlarkrecs on Tumblr!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Seize Me

Chapter 1

_"When you sleep all day and still get paid,_

_When the sun goes down we do it all over again._

_'Cause when you're on a roll they gotta let ya go,_

_Right through the back door let the games begin"_

_Famous--Puddle of Mudd_

 

“Katniss! A little bit faster, if you please!”

It's hard to hear anything over the thrum of the band's loud bass, but somehow I'm able to hear Madge's nagging easily. I turn around to look back at her where she's standing at the back of the bar on the edge of the crowd. I roll my eyes and gesture at the horde of people in front of me angrily, glaring back at my friend while trying to convey my thought of _‘What do you want me to do?’_

Madge rolls her eyes and gestures at her chest. Her shirt is already a usually modest V-cut, but she’s made sure to wear her ‘va-voom’ bra tonight, so her tits literally popping out the front. Several guys are staring at her and have been tripping all over themselves tonight to buy her drinks. This effect is exactly why she wore that bra tonight and it’s an effect she’s trying to get me to put into play myself.

I scoff at her and turn back to the crowd in front of me. Every single one of them is vying for the same thing as me: the damn bartender’s attention. I’ve been standing here for what feels like ages and I have yet to be served, and meanwhile the floozies down the bar from me are on their 5th round of shots. I’m thoroughly annoyed by this, especially because one of them has a squished nose and the other one’s hair looks like straw, making them an unattractive duo to say the least. I wouldn't say I'm a super model or anything, that's Johanna's department. But still, I should be able to get a drink before those girl. But then I finally see what the bartender sees, now that Madge has pointed it out. There, plain as day, are their godforsaken tits popping right out of their shirts.

I grumble and peek back to make sure Madge isn’t looking, then I hike down my own V-cut shirt to an indecent level. It's been a long week and Prim has given me about ten heart attacks, so I'm in no mood to wait any more to get our drinks. Still, no reason for Madge to know I’ve given in.

I’m not sure if I’m annoyed or pleased when the bartender turns and takes sudden notice of me. He pops me what I’m sure he thinks is his signature smile and leans over on the bar on one arm, tossing his mop of floppy golden hair, to finally take my order.

“Wha’tal it be, sweetheart?” he shouts at me over the music.

I groan inwardly but throw on my best smile and order two whisky sours, a rum 'n' coke, and a fishbowl long island ice tea. The bartender winks in response then turns away to fill up my order. And, despite my annoyance, I fill my time waiting for the drinks by enjoying the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over for bottles of liquor.

Hey, who says I can’t objectify him too?

In the middle of enjoying my view, I feel a large body sidle up next to me, close enough that it brushes up against my arm. I can tell by the way it feels that it’s a tall body, strong and muscular. And distinctly male. And therefore to be avoided. So I make a point of turning myself away from him by propping my right elbow, the one closest to him, on the bar and looking the opposite way, ignoring the sticky feeling of spilt drinks on the surface of the bar.

He doesn’t take the hint.

“Hey there,” he shouts at me. I continue to ignore him, but he’s either too drunk or too stupid to accept defeat. Instead he gives me a solid poke on the shoulder, hard enough to actually jolt me forward. And not just a little bit. I mean, I actually stumble into the girl in front of me, who turns to give me a dirty look before going back to her senseless conversation with her companion.

Sighing, I throw my elbow off the bar and spin to face him. In the process of turning my head I hit him in the face with my hair, which is braided into a single braid that falls over my shoulder. It hits with a thud and, while I’ve never considered the possibilities before, I’m taking into consideration all the valuable uses of wearing a braid in a bar.

“Whoa,” he yells, rubbing the spot on his right cheek where the tie at the end of my hair had smacked him. “Watch it with that.”

I don’t respond, instead I just stare him down. I expect my glare to make him uncomfortable, but he’s either oblivious or used to girls looking at him like that.

It’s not that he’s not cute or anything. Like I’d thought, his body is tall and muscular, which carries through to his face in the form of a strong jaw-line and high cheekbones. His eyes are bright blue, almost white, and they glitter with mirth. His hair is a dirty blonde which is styled messily, as if he’s spent all day in the sack. His grin in wide and contagious, all of the teeth the perfect shade of white and all filed to the same perfect length, and his skin is the sort of bronze you can only achieve with an expensive tanning bed. All in all, he's the picture of health and masculinity. Really, most girls would be melting just by looking at him.

But not me. I don’t know if it’s the single diamond stud in his right ear, the small gold chain at his neck or the white shirt that’s unbuttoned halfway up his chest, but something about this guy screams ‘douche’.

And really, who wants a walking, talking vag-cleaner on their arm?

The guy’s getting ready to say something again, but he’s interrupted by the bartender setting down four drinks in front of me.

“Thirty, seventy five,” he says with his “signature” smile.

I balk. “Thirty, seventy-five for four lousy drinks?”

The bartender’s smile falls at my outburst. He adopts a firm face and his is casting his eyes around, clearly looking for security in case I decide to get violent. He puts his hands up to me as if he’s warding me off, saying, “Hey, I don’t set the prices. Big bands equal big prices.”

I roll my eyes at the bartender and start to turn away. “Thanks, but no thanks. We’ll get drunk afterwards back home where it’s free.”

I’m walking away, preparing to face two very angry girlfriends and a disappointed sister, when a hard grip seals around my arm, holding me in place. It’s Douche-Guy.

“Hey,” he shouts his a classic pretty-boy smile. “No problem. The drinks are on me.”

I scoff at him and spit out, “I think we’ll manage just fine. We don’t need a guy to-”

“Katniss!”

I flinch. It’s Prim this time. She bouncing up to me, her blonde curls flouncing with her movement while her birthday tiara glitters in the bar lights. Tonight is Prim's twenty-first birthday, and the fact she's my baby sister is the only reason I’ve set foot in this bar tonight. That and our old friend Gale’s band is playing tonight. I instantly feel guilty, knowing I’m about ready to ruin her night.

“Hey, Prim,” I yell at her over the blaring music. “The drink prices here are ridiculous. We’ll just have to go back home to-”

“Aw, Katniss!” Prim sighs, throwing her head back in desperation. “Come _on._ It’s a _Saturday_ and Gale's band is _popular_ , what did you expect?”

“Thirty, seventy-five!” I retort. “Thirty, seventy-fucking-five, Prim.”

“Oh forget it,” Prim snaps, pulling out her wallet and stepping up to the bar where our drinks still sit. “ _I’ll_ buy them.”

“ _Priiiim_ ,” I groan, following her up there. “No, don’t…”

But before I can finish my plea a big, manly hand slaps down two twenties. Douche-Guy to the rescue, apparently. Or so he seems to think. He throws a smile at Prim, who’s caught totally off-guard by his appearance.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he bellows with a smile. “Can’t have the birthday girl paying for the drinks, can we?”

Prim puts up a prettily manicured hand, courtesy of Madge, and giggles behind it.

“Thanks,” she shouts sweetly to him, batting her eyelashes like the ignorant fool I swear she is sometimes. It's not that my sister is stupid by any means, in fact she's far more observant than I'd like, but she has this naive trust for everyone and thing that tends to get her into trouble, especially around guys who don't deserve it.

And so I can see where this is going and I don’t like it one bit. I charge forward to separate the two with my body and shove the long island and rum 'n' coke in Prim’s hands and take the two whiskey sours in mine.

“Sorry,” I roar at him, probably a little louder than the music warrants. “But we have to get back to our friends. I’m sure you understand.”

Douche-Guy’s smile fades to a scowl and two lines form between his eyebrows at the same time a vein starts to pulse in his forehead as he stares down at me, his face warping from sweet and flirty to angry and violent faster than I could truly process the change.

“Now wait just a minute,” he growls. “I paid forty bucks for those! The least you could do is stop and thank me.”

“What’s going on?” calls a strong, female voice.

It's Johanna, of course. She's standing there with her hands on her bare hips, glaring at Douche-guy. She cuts an intimidating figure tonight, dressed in a grey leather corset that exposes her mid-drift and black skinny jeans that accentuate her ass. The outfit verges on "bimbo", but she’s tied her hair back in a sleek ponytail and has killer stiletto boots on, modeled after army boots. She looks like a warrior princess, which I’m thankful for tonight because she turns Douche-Guy speechless.

“Who’s this?” Johanna asks, looking back and forth between Prim, Douche-Guy and me.

Douche-Guy’s smile has reappeared at the arrival of another woman and he sticks his hand out to her. I'm pretty sure he thinks he's dazzling her when he tosses his head to flop his hair over and says, “Cato, ma’am. And you?”

“Thirsty,” she says. She seizes the rum ‘n' coke out of one of Prim’s hands, then takes her by the arm and steers her away without another word.

I smirk at Johanna and start to follow, but not without turning back to give Douche-Guy/Cato a parting, “Thanks!” to which he responds with a glare and middle-finger flip-off. I’d return the gesture, but I’m still holding the whiskey sours and he's not worth the risk of spilling a drop of the alcohol he so kindly bought for us.

So I follow Johanna and Prim though the crowd, shaking my head for the hundredth time tonight at the difference in their appearances. Johanna is tall and menacing in her attire. Next to her, Prim looks like a lost fairy. She’s wearing a new dress Madge made her. It’s dark blue with a puffy skirt made of tulle and has a black corset for a bodice. It’s cut high in the front for modesty, but Madge couldn’t resist leaving the area behind the laces at the back of the bodice open to reveal a little skin. Prim’s wearing sheer stockings laced with glitter and strappy, blue stilettos to match her dress. Her blonde hair is left down, at Johanna’s suggestion, and Madge and Johanna had taken turns curling and styling it, topping it off with a silver “Birthday Girl” crown to ensure she’d have an endless supply of free drinks though the night. I’d been upset when I saw it all on her, worried someone would take an unhealthy interest in my baby sister, but so far all that’s happened is she’s been wished a few “happy birthdays”. And she’d just saved me $30.75 in drinks, so my feelings on the matter have slightly improved.

Johanna and Prim arrive to Madge first, who’s jumping up and down in excitement. She’s disappointed when she realizes neither Johanna or Prim have her drink, but her faces lights up again when she sees me coming with hers and mine. She’s on me in a second, swiping her drink out of my hands and throwing an arm around me. She lets her arm hang low over my chest and tugs at the neckline of my shirt.

“I told you,” she says slyly. “The tits work.”

I scowl and shrug her off, wishing I’d thought to pull my shirt back up before I’d come back over here. I reach to pull it up, but Madge smacks my hand away and puts her drink back in my hand. And then she reaches over to pull my neckline even lower.

“Come on, Katniss,” she says as she does it. I attempt to fight her off, but with my hands full with two very expensive drinks, I’m helpless. “We’re at a bar to see a rock band. I know you’re reserved and all and _believe_ me, I get it. But lighten up a little tonight. It’s Prim’s birthday _and_ we get to see Gale."

I’m about to whip out a snarly retort, but I’m cut short as Madge _sticks her hand down my cleavage._ She curls her fingers and gives each of my tits a small lift, raising them up in my bra. I glance around quickly, worried someone will see what she's doing and make a scene, but one of the opening bands  is on and stage now and they're good, so everyone's too busy enjoying the show to see what Madge is doing. Once she's done she pulls my shirt down further to expose my improved cleavage and steps back to survey her work.

“You’ll do,” she says with a smile.

I’m flabbergasted, unable to come up with anything to say to counteract what has just happened. Madge is usually right there with me on the reserved side of things. We’d both dressed modestly tonight in simple, standard-wash skinny jeans that are a moderate rise on our hips with black, V-neck shirts and our favorite jackets, hers a beat-up denim belonging to her long-distance boyfriend and mine an old, beat-up red leather jacket that belonged to my dead father. And, to class things up, we've both got on sets of black stilettos, which I can tell are killing her as much as me based on how often she's shifting from one foot to the other.

But tonight is a little different for Madge, hence the tit-popping and stilettos. See, the long-distance boyfriend who’s jacket she’s wearing is my old friend Gale, who’s band in back in town to kick off their cross-country tour. She’s been missing him like crazy and has been obsessing over every single tabloid article about his exploits with girls on the road. Luckily Madge has a straight head and knows better than to be sucked into the lies, but that doesn’t mean she’s not going to make sure he remembers just what exactly has been waiting for him at home. So, she’s put on her ‘va-voom' bra tonight to make sure that V-neck has something to show off and has piled her hair up sexily on top of her head. She’s right to do it, she’s gorgeous and Gale is going to freak when he sees her, but she’d been sort of self-conscious when she realized I wasn’t right there with her in the outfit department. We’ve always kind of stuck together after college, she and I. So when one of us goes out on a limb it’s scary when the other doesn’t follow.

So I let my shirt stay that way. For Madge, I tell myself.

Madge takes her drink back from me and takes a long gulp, then shudders and coughs. Prim gives her a quizzical look while Johanna cackles openly.

“Strong,” Madge croaks out with a smile.

I frown and take a sniff of my drink, then wince. Holy crap, no wonder these drinks are so expensive. I’m pretty sure this is 90% whiskey and only 10% sour. Is Gale’s band that bad that they have to get the audience drunk to keep them from booing them off the stage?

I’ve never actually seen Gale perform, which is ridiculous considering how long we've known each other. I've known him since we were seven, ever since we were forever tied together by the mining accident that killed both of our fathers. And when the fancy prep school in the city started giving out scholarships, Gale and I had been on the list to get them, along with Johanna. We’d bound together as the group of outcast scholarship kids, all three of us carrying a distaste for the city kids to match their aversion to us. But somehow Madge, the daughter of a wealthy band manager in the city, had decided that she was enamored with us. She’d taken a while to break into our group, but she was nothing like the other kids in the school, which made her a bit of an outcast too. We'd become pretty fast friend and she started spending every day with us, which really seemed to piss Gale off to no end. Gale had pretty much resented her, or so I thought, up until Junior year. That was when I caught him sucking her face off behind the gym. They’d been pretty inseparable since then.

That is, until college. Despite her father’s begging, Madge stayed behind with me to go to the local college. Gale had gotten another scholarship, this time to attend some fancy arts school in New York who'd actually found him though his application to a different school where his hidden talent had been a video of him playing the bass. And after he’d graduated, Madge’s dad helped him and his buddies get signed to a record label. They’d been a big hit and have been touring like crazy for the last few years, opening for bigger band to build a fan base. It’s been hard on Madge, but I think the reunions must be pretty fantastic, because she’s stuck with him consistently through it all. It probably helps that even though he could only ever spare one night back every few months, and he'd always spent those nights with Madge.

I'd only seen him one time since graduation during a long weekend in Sophomore year when Gale and I had been able to scrape together enough money between the two of us for me to come for a few days. It has been pretty uneventful, we'd mostly sat around in his dorm room writing songs together. I'm pretty sure I met his roommate, who is apparently a band-mate now, but I don't really remember much other than how right it felt to be with Gale again after missing my friend so much. I don't even really remember if he was good at the bass or not during our sessions and I'm now frustrated with myself for not paying closer attention.

And so today is our first time seeing him play with his band, "Misery's Fortune". Hell, this was our first time _hearing_ his band. It has surprised us all when Gale announced he was going into the music business with some buddies he'd met in college, even though it really shouldn't have since he was going to school for his music. I guess none of us thought he'd take it farther than that, but he'd surprised us by not just doing it, but becoming pretty damn well-known in the process. But Gale had made Madge promise she wouldn't listen to any of the recorded music they'd put out last summer. He wanted the first time she heard their music to be live. And this was their first headlining tour and therefore the first time they'd had any say in the tour locations. I couldn't afford to make it to any of their shows and Madge was terrified of traveling alone, which had been a large factor in her staying behind for college. So Gale had made a point of requesting Panem, our hometown, for the first date on their tour.

And, apparently, we weren't supposed to see them until they started playing. Gale had wanted Madge to hide so he wouldn't see her before their set and get nervous. So Madge is herding us to a booth to chill in until they start. Johanna whines about not we're not going to be able to see anything once they start, but Gale had promised Madge that someone from security would escort us up to the front just before they started.

We slide into the booth at the back of the bar, the one with Madge's name on it. She blushes at when she sees it, brushing it aside so no one will see it. Honestly, you'd think a girl who's dad is in the music business would be used to special treatment like this at concerts. But Madge is humble and never expectant of any special treatment. In fact, she avoids it whenever possible. And this is probably why she's probably my very best friend, beside Prim of course.

This thought makes me look over at my baby sister as we slide in and I'm horrified to see that her fishbowl Long Island is over half-way gone, and she's still slurping away at the straw. She must sense my disapproving gaze because she raises her head to look up at me, a guilty smile already on her face. She shrugs at me, not in an apologetic way but in more of a _'what can you do?'_ gesture. I try not to fret, I really do. But through the death of my father, my mother's dip into depression and Gale leaving me behind...well, Prim is the only thing in life I'm sure of anymore. The only person I am certain I love. And I'd known this day, her 21st birthday, would be hard for me. She wants me to be here to celebrate with her, but I also know that she's hoping I'll be able to back off for one night. And so I try to relax, sitting back in my corner of the booth to sip my whiskey sour and attempt to not keep tabs on the level of her drink.

Which is going pretty well for me until a tall, dark-skinned man in all black comes over and deposits fresh duplicates of our drinks at our booth.

"From Mr. Hawthorne," he says with a smile. I can hear him easily now that the band who'd just been playing has stepped down to let "Misery's Business" set up. The noise of their tuning and sound-checks is still an annoyance, and I think I can hear Gale's voice a few times, but it's still minimal enough that shouting at the top of our lungs isn't necessary. "He said for Ms. Katniss to...relax and let her sister enjoy her night." My jaw drops at this and Prim's hiding a giggle behind her hand again. "And to tell you ladies that they'll be starting the set in the next couple of minutes. I'll be back in five to take you to the front of the stage."

I feel Madge stiffen beside me at his words. Everyone else thanks the man, who's carrying away our empty classes, but I've turned my attention to Madge. Her face has gone pale, but I can see bright splotches of red rising on her cheeks and chest.

"Madge?" I ask softly so only she can hear me. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" she squeaks out, bowing her head and refusing to meet my eyes. "Why would you think something's wrong?"

I give a short laugh at this. "Honestly, Madge, how long have we known each other?"

Madge lifts her head to look at me now, a sheepish smile on her face. "I know. You're right." She sighs and slumps back in the booth, bringing her drink with her so she can sip on it while she sulks. "I guess I'm just nervous. I mean, I haven't seen him in months. And I've been eating all that cheese Prim's been bringing over...I just can't seem to help myself, it's so rich and creamy and--"

I hold up my hand to stop her, shocked by what I think my beautiful, slender friend is alluding to. "Madge," I ask, "are you having _weight worries_?"

Madge tries to look away from me and gives a nervous little titter of a laugh. "No...well, I mean, maybe. I mean, I've put on a few pounds since the last time he saw me...." She trails off at the stony look on my face.

"You. Are. Not. Fat." I say each word slowly and individually to emphasize my point. "Honestly, Madge, since when do you worry about that stuff? Are the tabloids getting to you?"

She bristles at this. "No!" she insists. "I'm just nervous about seeing him again, ok? You've never done the long distance thing before, Katniss. You don't know what it's like."

I open my mouth to give a snappy retort about how there's a _reason_ I don't do relationships period, but Madge is saved from by my anger by Prim, who's noticed the tension and has jumped in quickly to change the subject. She's quickly moving Madge on to different, happier topics, leaving me to my turn at sulking in the booth.

Before I feel I'm sufficiently done pouting the big dark-skinned man is back at our table, ready to escort us to the front of the crowd. Johanna follows ahead first, blazing a trail behind the man easily, making room for Prim to skip happily behind her as if she's turned 12 and not 21. But the crowd quickly swarms up again behind Prim, leaving Madge and I to elbow our way through the bodies to keep up. The man has led us along the left edge of the crowd where the density is the least, so I can't imagine what it's like at the center.

He turns right after a moment or two as we reach the front of the crowd and gestures to a small area that's been gated off from the crowd to protect us from any violent thrashing that may occur. He gives us a small smile, asks us if we need any more drinks and, to my horror, takes an order for another Long Island for Prim. I open my mouth to protest but Madge gives me a sharp look and Johanna reaches over and sinks her nails into the skin of my arm, effectively hushing me. I take a deep breath and remind myself that tonight is about my sister having a good time and Madge getting to see Gale. I'm just along for the ride and, therefore, should just stand back and shut it.

The small gated area set for us is dead center in front of the stage but set back far enough we don't have to crane our necks to look up at them. I see Gale off to our right, his bass slung over his shoulders and hung low near his pelvis as he runs a quick stream of notes in one last check. He's dressed in jeans and his customary white shirt, which is typical Gale attire and something I find soothing to see. He doesn't look much changed, which is a relief, except for the few tattoos here and there that I can see on his wrists and upper arms. I look over at Madge to see what she thinks, but she doesn't seem concerned so none of this must be new changes. I'm amused to see a glitter at his left eyebrow and I realize that he's got an eyebrow piercing. Interesting.

I take a moment to survey the rest of the group. I immediately know who I'll see behind the drums. Gale's brother, Rory, is in the band too. Rory had forgone his college scholarship, much to the frustration of both Gale and their mother, and had elected to take an apprenticeship at the Justice Building. We'd all known it was a stupid idea and that Rory wouldn't be the least bit happy, but he was _sure_ it was a fast-track way to the money the family so desperately needed. And Rory had promised Gale he'd take care of the family until Gale's band got established, so he'd stuck with it as long as possible. But a few months ago when the band's drummer had flaked out of them, Gale had made a call to Rory to come join him in New York. Rory had won over the other band members easily and was immediately inducted into the band as the drummer. And it suites him. He has a bandana folded over into a strip tied around his forehead, which looks pretty comical on him when he has his tongue stuck out like that in concentration while testing and adjusting his drums. His eyes flick out to the audience momentarily and he spots us. He gives us a quick wave before casting a look at the back of Gale's head, remembering the rule about not seeing us. He gives us a guilty smile, then goes back to his adjustments.

There are two other people in the band, both with blonde hair. One of the blonde boys is standing back to the left with a guitar slung low over his pelvis like Gale. He's wearing a pair of loose blue jeans that are ripped at the knees with a black shirt and a beat-up black leather jacket. He's standing with his head down, making adjustments to the strings, and the only impression I get of him is strong, wide shoulders and a mop of curly, hay-blonde hair.

The other blonde, though, is stunning and impossible to ignore. He's not really blonde, exactly. If I was forced to describe it, I would probably use the word "bronze". He's tall and lean with the body of a long distance runner or swimmer. He's wearing a set of relatively tight black jeans that hang low on his hips. His shirt is a simple white to match Gale's, but it rides high while he holds on to the microphone, running his last mic checks before they start, and we can see the delicious "V" of his hips in the exposed strip of skin. His eyes flick down to us and he gives us a mischievous smile. I'm hit with the impression of sea-green waves baring down on me when our eyes meet briefly. But just as quickly he moves his gaze back to the man at the right side of the stage who's controlling his microphone's volume, giving him a series of thumbs up or down until he's satisfied with the level.

"I call the singer," Johanna hisses to me and Prim. Prim giggles and I know she's not upset by this, because my baby sister has always had a thing for Rory Hawthorne, who I know is the real reason she'd been so eager to come here tonight.

I surprise myself by saying, "Go ahead, Jo. You can have him."

And I'm being truthful when I say this because I really have no interest in the singer. I can appreciate what a fine specimen he is and I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't enjoy a quick tumble in a bed with him for the fun of it. But my interest in him stops there, making him not worth the fight with Johanna for his attentions.

And then, suddenly, the band must be satisfied with their sound checks. Some unseen signal goes though the group, and then Rory's counting off and the music starts, making the crowd thrum with excitement.

Gale's the first one to start, his fingers sliding effortlessly over the stings of his bass as he starts out with a simple, mournful medley. It seems to draw the crowd in as they hold their breath, waiting to see what song the band will start with. And then the singer croons something into the mic the sets the crowd off, an apparent giveaway to the song, and then the band launches headfirst into a hard, bass-heavy song.

Gale's more comfortable than I've ever seen him. He's got the bass slung over his hips and it seems to be a part of him, moves with him as he shifts his hips to reach the note he's looking for. He's stoic and serene for most of the song, except for when he gives one of his band mates an excited smile. I can feel Madge hopping up and down beside me and I know that this is probably one of the best nights of her life, getting to see her boyfriend after months of separation and finally getting to see him play his music.

The singer's voice is smooth as butter through the more melodic lyrics, but most of the time he's in a near growl and I can feel Johanna, along with every other girl in the bar, swoon with his words. He's intense and jumping with the music, holding the microphone close to his lips, as if he needs it to breathe. He moves around a little to move with his band-mates, but he's sure to make sure he's in constant contact with the audience, looking over the crowd passionately. But despite his connection with the audience I can tell he's still so in tune with the band, especially Rory, who it taking all of his beat cues from the singer. I can tell Prim is in tune with Rory too, because she's bobbing with all of his hits, not just with the beat.

But, then something hits in the music and the guitar rings through the air and my eyes are immediately pulled the blonde guitar player, who's head is still dipped intently over his guitar. But I'm entranced by the way he's moving now, slinging his guitar off to the side when he lets a string of notes play out, and I can see by the way he's moving his body that he's been sucked into the music with the rest of his band. I can tell he's particularly in sync with Gale, following his cues as he takes them from Rory. His hips dip forward as he follows a string of particularly sexy notes that makes my breath catch in my throat. A part of me is surprised with myself. I mean, really, when did _strings of notes_ become sexy to me? But then he finally lifts his head to give Gale a smile and my heart stops.

There, in front of me, are the bluest eyes I have ever see. If the singer's were sea-green, this guitarist's are Caribbean blue. And right in the middle of another one of his hip-dips, they lock onto mine. And I'm a goner in that moment.

Katniss Everdeen does not do romance.

Katniss Everdeen does not do love at first sight.

But Katniss Everdeen does fuck.

And I promise myself that someday, I'm going to fuck this man. I don't know when, I'm  not sure where, and I'm still formulating the how as I watch him play. But I know that, one day, this man is going to be in my bed. And it's going to be hot.

"I changed my mind," Johanna hisses in my ear again. "I want the guitar player."

I shove her way, playing it as a joke. But I'm genuinely irritated with her this time when I respond to her claim.

"You already picked yours. The guitar player is mine," I snap at her.

Johanna's eyes widen but she leans back, biting her lip to hold back a smile. Madge turns and gives me a surprised look, tilting her head to the side as if trying to decipher if I'm serious. I give her a look that lets her know that I am very, very serious about this. She gives me a pleased half-smile, then goes back to enjoying the show her boyfriend is putting on for the crowd. Prim looks at me quizzically, having missed the exchange. I don't bother trying to explain it to her, instead giving her a happy smile that always pacifies her. It works again today, because she returns her gaze back to the stage.

The songs shifts then into something slower but more intense. Less jumping around, more leaning into instruments while the singer grips the microphone stand intently. This gives the boys a chance to look over the crowd, who's practically humming as the new song brings them down from the intensity of the last one. Gale's eyes finally meet Madge's and I see him light up with excitement. He wink's in Madge's direction, to which she responds by blowing a kiss. He shakes his head at her but smiles, then returns his attention to the rest of the band. Rory sees Gales exchange with Madge and, taking it as a sign that communication with us is now allowed, his gives us a quick wave while the sound of the singer's voice and the guitar lazily circle the bar alone. But the reprieve is short, because within seconds Rory's sticks are back on his drums and the music picks up in intensity.

This song is more my style, something to grind to slowly instead of hopping around like a mad woman. Without thinking about it, I feel my hips start to move in small, slow figure eights to the beat of the music. I look over at Madge to see she's swaying too, her eyes locked so purposefully on Gale with a look so lustful I feel as though I've interrupted something very personal. I tear my eyes away from her to look at Johanna, who's biting her bottom lip as she watches the singer move on the stage, sliding the microphone stand up his body once or twice in a way that has her eyes widening. And then there's sweet little Prim, who's face is one of pure, innocent joy and watching two of the men we've grown up with doing something so exciting.

But then my eyes are drawn back to the stage by the sound of guitar. He's playing a solo this time, whereas last time it had just been a moment of intense guitar amid the other instruments. His skills are being allowed to really show now and I wonder how I'm going to make it through the show if he's going to be doing this repeatedly. I glance around the rest of the audience, wondering if anyone else is feeling the same way, and I'm frustrated to see that, yes, other women are ogling him in the same way as me. Which shouldn't be so upsetting to me, but it is. I mean, hadn't I staked a claim? Sure, only Johanna heard it, but the power of my possession should have been strong enough for every estrogen-filled, self-preserving person in the audience should have known he was not theirs to take. Right?

I'm able to take in appearance a little more now that I'm not being trapped by those eyes. He's got an eyebrow piercing to match Gale's, which has me wondering if the two maybe got them together. He's got a tattoo on his upper right arm and something around his left wrist, but he's actually pretty clean for a guitarist in a rock band. He's cleanly shaven, which lets me admire his strong jaw and the curve of his lips. He's got a smirk on his face now and I can tell he enjoys playing this song more than the other one, probably because he really gets to tear up the guitar in this one. I'm blown away as I watch his finger move swiftly over the strings as he slides from one note together in a run that seems to go on forever, rising in intensity until he slams on the last note, dropping the guitar in a dramatic dip as he ends it. And then he raises his head again and, without hesitation, he looks right at me for the second time tonight.

Madge leans over, pressing her lips almost completely against my ear, to whisper to me, "Peeta is looking at you."

I'm startled by this, turning my head to look at her so suddenly that our noses brush. Madge, inebriated, giggles at this.

"Don't _kiss_ me," she sputters, biting her lip to hold in her giggles.

I ignore her, asking, "Who's Peeta?"

Madge rolls her eyes and tilts her head toward the stage. "Peeta! The guitar player...."

My eyes shoot to the stage and I see that his eyes haven't looked away my face through the whole time he plays. I'm caught off guard by his steady gaze and I feel the warmth of his gaze travel straight from my head, through my head and down to my pelvis, where it pools between my legs, creating a delicious ache. I realize, utterly embarrassed by the thought, that he must see something in my eyes because he gives me a shy smile and wink before turning back to make eye contact with Gale before they traverse into a section of particularly tricky notes together.

"I can introduce you later, if you like," Madge shouts in my ear, loud enough that both Johanna and Prim can hear what she says.

Prim tugs eagerly at my jacket sleeve, grinning at me excitedly.

"Oh please, Katniss," she begs me sweetly. "Can we please?"

Johanna snorts. "Do what you like. I'm going to meet that singer whether you give me a formal introduction or not."

Madge rolls her eyes at Johanna. "Finnick? Trust me, you'll need to me give you a formal introduction if you want to get anywhere near him. They get practically mauled after every performance, so security rushes them straight off stage to their dressing room and only pre-approved parties are allowed in there, and only after the bar is cleared out for the night."

I smirk at Madge, seeing where she's going. "But I bet, being the bassist's main squeeze, you're pre-approved."

Madge returns my smirk with a wide wink. "We all are, obviously. Gale's excited to see all of us and wants to introduce us to Peeta and Finnick. They're all practically brothers now, an on-road family. So I have to pass Peeta and Finnick's approval before we can join in."

I frown at Madge, worried by the last bit of this statement. "What do you mean 'join in'?"

But Madge doesn't get a chance to explain, because the music has changed again, back into something loud and face-paced. I can make out something along the lines of 'we'll explain later' and then she's turned back to the stage to watch Gale. I watch her for a minute, remembering all the other plans of Madge's that, well-meaning as they were, had gone array. I can't help think that this could be another one. But sitting here and fretting over it isn't going to help anything, so I turn away from Madge and resume my drooling over a certain blue-eyed guitar player.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Seize Me

Chapter 2

_"Hey oh, here I am,_

_And here we go, life's waiting to begin._

_I cannot live, I cannot breathe,_

_Unless you do this with me."_

_The Adventure--Angels and Airwaves_

 

I'm practically aching with need when the show ends, having been drooling over this Peeta character for a solid hour and a half, and I have to keep my legs clamped together while we wait to get in to see the boys in an attempt to calm the throbbing at my core. As I'd watched him, I'd realized I probably wouldn’t have even noticed him in a crowd if it hadn’t been for him being in Gale’s band. And I think how awful that seems, how vain. But, in my defense, not many guys really stand out to me. Most of the time they just sort of appear, like Douche-Guy/Cato, and I either take them up on their offer or shoot them down. And I’ve certainly never gone out of my way to meet a guy.

Which is why the fact that I’m standing here with Madge, Johanna and Prim waiting to see Gale and his sexy guitar friend is so amusing to everyone.

“I’m surprised, Katniss,” Madge says with a knowing smirk. “I thought you’d have tried to duck out as soon as the show was over, offer to pull up the car or something.”

“I was to see Gale,” I retort with a sniff, annoyed at what she's insinuating.

Prim rolls her eyes at me with a smile. “Sure,” she says, drawing the vowels of the word out in a way that makes me want to give her a swift kick in the shins, just to shut her up. She's lucky it's her birthday.

I’m trying to figure out something witty to say in response when the big escort from the concert comes to meet us where we've been waiting at the door leading to the backstage dressing area. He gives us a wave as he approaches, smiling broadly at us.

“No fights tonight,” he says giddily. “Somehow the boys’ concerts always seem to lead to a fight or two. We were lucky tonight.”

We all turn to each other, eyebrows raised in surprise, when he says this. Really? _Gale_ ’s band provokes riots? What have we missed?

“Mr.Hawthorne said for you guys to come straight back once everything cleared out,” he says, knocking on the door in front of us. Another tall, strong man opens it from the other side. He’s dressed in an outfit to match our escort, meaning he’s also part of security. He sees us standing there and smiles.

“Hey, Marshall,” he says in greeting to our escort. “These the girls?”

Marshall nods with a smile, his teeth made brighter by contrast with his skin. “Yeah, Chad. These are them. Misses Katniss, Prim, Madge and Johanna.”

We all give Chad a nervous round of ‘hello’s and he’s grinning at us stupidly as he opens the door wider so we can slip past him. He exchanges a few words with Marshall, and then he closes the door behind us, effectively shutting out the last of the chatter from the show.

“Right this way,” he says, turning to walk down the hallway. We follow him in a scurry of leather and high heels, not wanting to be left behind.

Prim, unable to bear even the smallest period of silence, asks Chad, "So, do you guys travel with them, or are you the club's security?"

Chad turns and gives Prim a grim smile and says, "Yeah right, you think clubs like this have the security for a band like this? Nah, we travel with them. It sucks, because we have to spend all day coordinating everything to match the venue." He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "I'm just glad I do security and not babysitting."

"Babysitting?" Johanna asks, tilting her head to the side in interest.

Chad chuckles. "Yeah, keeping them on a schedule, making sure they have everything perfect for the dressing room, that sort of thing. I guess they're not bad as far as rock divas go, but I don't have the patience for that shit. I'd rather get the chance to throw around some drunks than get to sit on the sidelines with the band."

He's led us down to nearly the end of the hallway, stopping at a set of double doors. There’s a simple piece of printer paper taped to the front of the door with the name “Misery’s Fortune” scrawled on it.

"This is them," Chad says. "Go ahead and head on in, I've got to go help Marshall get stuff wrapped up before we take off tonight." And then, without another word, he's turned on his heel and is going back the way we just came.

A nervous shiver goes down my spine and I can feel Madge echo it. Prim and Johanna are excited in a 'we’re meeting the band' way, but for Madge and I this is different. I haven’t seen Gale for four years, since that long weekend sophomore year. Madge, who is convinced Gale is the love of her life, hasn’t seen him for a few months and has been enduring tabloids insisting every female within a 7 foot distance of him is sleeping with him. Prim knows Gale from back home, but to her he’d always been the cute, older friend of her sister’s. Johanna knows Gale too from our time in high school together, but they hadn’t been best friends like he and I and they hadn’t really kept in touch after graduation.

Madge reaches out and takes my hand in hers. I look over at her and smile, and I can see the excitement there in her eyes, the tears of relief threatening to fall over her lashes. Yes, we’ve missed Gale terribly. Seemingly reassured by my presence and equal state of mine, Madge sighs and squares her shoulders then reaches forward and pushes open the door.

After which she’s immediately enveloped into an embrace by Gale, who's been waiting for us inside the dressing room right by the door.

“ _Madge_ ,” he sighs into her hair as he holds her. I can see that she’s got his shirt in a death grip, her nails biting into the fabric as if she’s scared to let go. And I know she probably is. Gale's got one hand at her back and the other is buried in her hair, holding her to him. “I’ve missed you.”

And then he’s pulling away from her and planting a sweet kiss on her lips, which makes Prim, who’s stepping up in front of me with Johanna, sigh wistfully.

At the sound of Prim’s sigh Gale pulls away from Madge and turns to take in my baby sister. She’s grown since he last saw her. She'd been a little pretty thing of sixteen then. And now she stands before him a woman, and I can tell he’s having difficulty connecting the two images in his head. But he gracefully shakes his head and smiles at her and gives her a quick, one-armed hug that makes her blush.

“Hiya, birthday girl,” he says with a laugh. “Not getting in too much trouble tonight, I’m sure?”

He says this last bit as a question, which makes Prim laugh. “Only just enough,” she says, beaming up at him.

He chuckles and releases her, then turns to give Johanna a good once-over. She’s been standing there with her arms crossed and her hip popped to the side, waiting for him to notice her. Gale whistles, which relaxes her posture and I can make out a grin on her face as she twirls wickedly for him.

“Look at you, Jo,” he cackles, reaching to embrace her as well. “How many asses did you have to kick to keep sleaze-bags off my girl?”

Johanna rolls her eyes as she pushes him away from her, but she's grinning ear to ear when she says, “None for her tonight. I think they could sense her infatuation with the bassist.”

Gale grins at this and turns back to look at Madge, who’s blushing vividly now. Gale bends over and reaches out to take her hand and bring it to his mouth. He places a soft kiss there on the top of her hand while looking into her eyes and saying, “Well of course she is. Or maybe they could just sense that the bassist would have them thrown out if they touched her.” Madge shakes her head as a brush-off of this but she doesn’t pull her hand out of Gale's until Johanna speaks up again.

“Actually,” Johanna says, stepping back to stand beside me, “it’s this one I actually had to rescue tonight when Prim proved to be a very bad wing-woman.”

I can see Prim stick her tongue out at Johanna and now I’m blushing, annoyed at the suggestion of weakness on my part. As if I'm incapable of taking care of myself.

“I had it under control,” I reply angrily. “He’d even paid for the drinks.”

At the mention of me Gale straightens up, gently dropping Madge’s hand, and turns to look at me. My heart catches in my throat as he gives me his widest smile yet. I open my mouth to say hi, but I’m cut off as he strides forward and seizes me into a bear hug, spinning me around so fast that my legs fly out behind me. Normally I would smack him or demand he put me down, but it feels good to have Gale hug me again, to be able to smell his distinct scent even through the cloud of smoke and alcohol that hangs on him from the bar. He laughs loudly in my ear and squeezes me close to him and I can’t help laughing with him. Eventually he slows our spinning and plants a huge, sloppy kiss right on my lips.

He pulls back to look at me, grinning as I splutter at him. I’m trying to come up with something to say in response to what's just happened and fail, but I give him a few smacks on the shoulder to compensate for my lack of verbal scolding, growling low in my throat with mild anger. Gale doesn’t falter, instead he just puts me back down on my feet and holds me out at arm's length to get a good look at me.

“I’ve missed you, Catnip,” he says with his mega-watt smile. “Madge keeps me updated on everything, but I feel like I’ve missed so much. You look good."

I look over at Madge, worried what her response to all of this will be, and I’m relieved to see she’s beaming at both of us like a proud parent.

“He really has missed you, Katniss. He’s always asking about you, wanting me to relay our every ‘adventure’, pressuring me for every little detail about your life. It really is annoying.” She says this with mock anger, but it’s ruined by that smile on her face.

Gale’s about to give Madge what I’m sure he thinks is a witty retort when the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat interrupts him.

Finnick, the singer, steps up with eyes shining in amusement and says, “Well, Gale-o, are you going to introduce me or just keep hogging them for yourself?”

I can practically feel Johanna's body start to thrum to life with anticipation at the appearance of the green-eyed god.

Gale laughs and releases me to move to stand with Finnick. Finnick laughs with him and gives him a good whack on the shoulder with a fist. Gale moves to punch him back but Finnick is too fast, jumping aside so Gale's punch only hits air. Finnick chortles some more, but the next time Gale comes at Finnick he's not fast enough. Gale's arm reaches out and he manages to seize Finnick's neck in the crook of his elbow. He then brings his arm in so Finnick's head is pinned to Gale's chest in a headlock.

"This-" Gale grunts out while trying to keep a hold on a struggling Finnick, "is our disgusting singer, Finnick."

Finnick's struggling eventually pays off when he manages to squirm from Gale's grasp. He stumbles away from us once he's free, his hair tousled and his eyes bright with merriment. I think all the girls in the room go simultaneously wet at the sight of him.

"Disgusting, you say?" says Finnick. "I do believe I've been told I have the voice and looks of an angel."

Gale rolls his eyes. "He lip sings."

Finnick gasps in real horror at this. "I do not!"

Gale shakes his head, suddenly too overcome with laughter to respond. Eyes wide, Finnick turns to Madge, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

"Madge, darling, can't you do anything about that?"

Madge has been laughing quietly at the exchange between the boys, but now she composes herself and manages to get out, "Gale, really?"

Gale manages to bring his laughter to a stop with the look in Madge's eyes effectively snuffing it out. Shaking his head he reaches for Madge and pulls her up to his body where he holds her in a tight hug. He bends down and kisses her forehead, making her blush.

"Alright, Odair," he says. "These are our friends from back home. Johanna and Prim and-"

"Katniss."

It's not Gale who says my name. It's not any of the girls or Finnick either. Our heads all snap around to see Peeta leaning up against a dressing station, the lights around the mirror casting shadows on one side of his face. My eyes snap to his and I'm overcome by the blue of them. His eyes are intent on mine, as if he's trying to decipher something in my gaze, and I feel a blush start to creep up my neck to my face. Even with my gaze caught in his I'm able to make a quick assessment of his appearance. His black leather jacket is off and slung over the back of the chair he's standing next to. With it off I'm able to appreciate his sinewy arms, which are exaggerated by the way he's crossed them in front of his chest. His shoulders are wider than I had originally thought. He's not really built like a football player like Gale or a swimmer like Finnick. Maybe more like a wrestler. Short and compact, but built for speed and strength. Hot _and_ strong...I'm pretty sure I'm screwed at this point.

_'Or at least_ ,' the dirty part of my mind thinks, ' _I hope to be_.'

I'm about to ask how he knows my name when Gale says, "Oh, that's right, Peeta. I forgot you'd met Katniss when she visited a few years ago. Good memory."

I yank my eyes to look at Gale, silently asking him what the fuck he's talking about. I sure as hell would have remembered eyes like that if I'd seen them before. He's been showing pictures or something, I know it. Leave it to fucking Gale to show off all his lady friends from back home.

Dick.

"You did, Catnip!" Gale retorts to my stare. "Peeta was my roommate in college. You had to have seen him, like, ten times while you were visiting."

Oh. Well that explained it, then. I remember there being a roommate, registering that it had been a male. I also remember now Gale saying his old roommate was the one he'd started the band with. I'm suddenly regretting not paying more attention when I'd visited. Maybe then I wouldn't be so overcome by the sight of Peeta. He'd be old news to me by now and I could concentrate more on taking care of my baby sister on her birthday instead of gawking at a blue-eyed guitar player. I'm lucky tonight's the only night I'll see him. He'll leave for their next venue and I'll allow him to feature in a few of my fantasies for a while until it becomes old, then I can forget all about him. I can move past my erotic imaginings and this will just have been an exciting night for Prim's 21st birthday.

Who has, in fact, disappeared into a corner of the dressing room with Rory and is running her hands up and down his arms while they talk. She's leaning a shoulder against the wall, her weight all on one leg while the other is popped up femininely. I wouldn't be so concerned if it hadn't been obvious that, after three Long Islands, she's a little unsteady on her feet. I'm about to go over and pull her away from Rory, preventing her from making any bad decisions, but a look from Gale stops me cold. The look says that he will embarrass me in front of everyone, throwing me over his shoulder if he has to, to keep me from pestering Prim tonight. I huff and cross my arms, but I stay put.

"Katniss?" Finnick asks, raising an eyebrow as he takes on a mischievous smile. He steps up and takes one of my hands in his, bringing it up to brush his lips against it like Gale had done to Madge. "I've heard a lot about you. You and Gale have been friends since you were, what, ten?"

My blush is full on now, coloring my cheeks a bright red in my embarrassment.

"Seven," I correct, my voice far more light and airy that I would have liked.

Finnick gives me a knowing smile as he takes in my blush. He plants a firm kiss on my hand then stands up straight to look me dead in the eyes, his eyes a sea of green washing over me. His thumb traces over the place where his lips had touched my skin, sending skittering waves of pleasure through my body.

"A long-time friend, then," he says in a deep, gravelly voice that sends a shiver up my spine. "I'd imagine Mr. Hawthorne knows quite a bit about you."

"Which makes her off limits, Odair," Gale snaps.

Finnick laughs and releases my hand, then turns to look at Johanna, who has been bristling over the attention he's been giving me. She's caught off guard by his gaze suddenly being on her and she begins shifting foot to foot in a discomfort that is very un-Johanna.

"What about you, hm?" he asks, stepping toward Johanna. "Are you off limits to me too?" And in the same fashion as he had me, Finnick picks up Johanna's hand and brings it to his lips. But instead of laughing nervously and blushing as I had, Johanna has recovered. A corner of her lips lifts in a sultry half-smile and her eyes twinkle with excitement.

"No," Gale says with a laugh. "You can have that one."

I expect Johanna to throw a witty retort at Gale, but instead she just rolls her eyes and continues to stare intently at Finnick. But he doesn't seem to notice her intensity on him as he stands up straight again. He's already looking over her shoulder at something on the wall that I don't see.

"Nice to meet you, Finnick," she says, her voice low and seductive. I have to concentrate in order to not roll my eyes at her.

"The pleasure, my dear Johanna, is all mine," he responds, his voice an automatic low croon to match hers. Johanna flushes in response but I get a sick feeling in my stomach, seeing his indifference and her immediate attachment. Somehow I don't think this is going to go Johanna's way. Again, I am relieved this is only a one-night thing.

"Is anyone else as nauseated by this as I am?" Peeta asks, standing up straight and walking over to us.

He moves to stand between Johanna and Finnick, an impish on his face as he kills the sexual tension faster than a cool bucket of ice water ever could. In the movement of his approach he brings his smell with him and I'm hit with the scent of cinnamon, dill and oil paints, which intrigues me. Not something you can really pick up at your local department store. Definitely a smell you pick up by contact. For a half-second I'm disappointed that I only have this brief time tonight to learn about him. But only for that long. Then I'm remembering my summer plans and how thoroughly boys have always fucked up everything for me. No, it's good they're leaving tonight.

"Yes, let's talk about something else," Madge says, a mock frown coming over her face. "Like, let's talk about this."

She's pointing to the bar in Gale's left eyebrow. I'm amused by this, apparently having been wrong about it being an old accessory. Gale has the decency to look guilty as he raises a set of fingers to brush over the offending stud. The change in atmosphere has acquired Prim's attention. She and Rory are coming over to join us now, as eager as the rest of us to see how this will play out.

"I'd noticed that," Prim says cheerily, her blonde curls bouncing around her while she rocks back and forth on her heels, forever unable to stay still. "It looks good."

"It was Peeta's idea, actually," he says nodding to Peeta.

Peeta gives a small smile and shakes his head saying, "I never told you to do anything. I just asked you to come along. You're the one who thought it looked bad-ass and wanted one yourself."

Gale rolls his eyes. "Please. Like it was your first piercing. You didn't need me there to hold your hand or carry you out the door if you fainted. You knew I'd want one too once I got there."

Peeta's about to respond when Prim asks, "You have more than one?"

Gale smirks. "Yeah, he's got one other one."

I'm looking Peeta over carefully now, trying to locate another piercing. But I come up blank. I don't see anything. Where is it? And as I think of the possibilities I begin to get more and more comfortable. Each possible location is more bizarre and dirty than the last. I'm trying to throw a car in front of my train of thought when Prim asks what I've been wondering.

"Ooooo, can I see it?" Prim asks, rising to her tip toes with eyes shining in excitement. My ever lovable sister, infatuated with anything new or different. And I'm immediately horrified by the idea of her seeing any of the places I'd envisioned the piercing/s being.

To my surprise, Peeta blushes. "It was a stupid bet from when we'd started the band," he says and I think he's making a point to not look at me.

Gale snorts when Peeta says this. "It's his tongue," he spits out, the smirk on his face now a full grin as he enjoys himself at his friend's expense.

Oh. My. God.

He has a tongue ring. I am both relieved and hot all over immediately.

There is a strong possibility that I'm going to just cum on the spot, here in front of everyone, at the thought of it. God, what would that feel like to kiss, to feel it brush my tongue in a hot make-out? To feel it on my body, on _me_....

Fuck.

I'm praying that no one will see the flush that's come over my body or the rapid rising and falling of my chest as I attempt to get my breathing under control. But luckily, Prim has distracted everyone with her endless curiosity.

"No way," she says, eyes wide. "Can I see it?"

I don't know who's blushed more tonight, Peeta or myself. He bites his bottom lip in hesitation, then gives his head a small shake and sticks his tongue out.

Dear god. There it is, a silver ball of delicious sexual fantasies peaking out through the slick flesh of his tongue.

I'm going to combust. I am.

Especially when Peeta looks over at me. At first his face is confused, as if he can't decipher the emotions going across my face. But then something clicks and he understands the flush on my face, my strange posture as I press my legs together in an effort to control the throbbing. He raises his pierced eyebrow at me and gives me a sexy little half-smile that makes me what to die.

Dear god. I _want_ this man.

"Cool!" Prim says, clapping her hands in delight like a small child. She turns to me, her face imploring. "I want one."

Her statement slowly penetrates the sexual haze I've been trapped in. When I process what she's said I'm horrified. I shake my head slightly in surprise, my eyes widening.

"No. Way," I manage to spit out. "There's no way in hell you're getting anything pierced."

Prim crosses her arms, her bottom lip coming out in a pout. She's staring me down now, eyes flashing with resentment.

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do," she snarls softly. It's like watching a kitten try to growl. Tiny, pathetic and not particularly scary. "I'm not a child anymore and you don't need to take care of me."

I'm shocked by this. "Prim," I say softly. "I don't think you're-"

"Hey!" says Gale, jumping in to swing an arm around Prim's shoulder. He's doing his best to cut the tension when he says, "Just wait, Primy. After a whole tour on the road with us maybe even _she'll_ leave with something new on her skin."

This statement makes me freeze. I turn to face Gale, who's smile is falling at the look on my face. He looks at Madge with a worried look on his face, eyes wide in fear.

"You did tell her...right?" he asks Madge in a low, concerned voice.

"No..." she says, looking back and forth between the two of us, confused. "I thought it'd be fun to tell her together, to surprise her."

If Gale was worried then, he looks down-right scared as shit now.

"Madge...Katniss hates surprises. I mean, she's had her period marked out on the calendar for every month for the next 3 years."

"Hey!" I shout at him, waving my arms to get his attention. "Is that really supposed to be common knowledge?" I ask, glancing nervously back and forth between Finnick and Peeta, who are both smirking at me now.

"Katniss doesn't hate surprises...do you?" Madge directs this last bit at me, eyes wide with bewilderment. "You love them. Like the time we made you a surprise breakfast the morning of _your_ 21st birthday, or the time I brought home that kitten, Buttercup."

I'm about to open my mouth to reassure my delicate friend, falsely, that I _do_ love surprises and that Gale has no idea what he's talking about when Johanna jumps in with a scathing laugh.

"Oh my god, Madge. She hated all that. We interrupted her early-morning birthday sex that morning with the cute football guy from down the hall. And she hated that kitten, that's why she gave it to Prim." Johanna says all this with mirth. I know she's not being intentionally cruel, but I can see how her words sting Madge.

"You said...you said you have allergies," Madge says, her voice wobbling with hurt. "And you loved those pancakes...at least you said you did."

"No, Madge," I say, stepping forward to take her hands in mine. "Johanna's a bitch." I throw Johanna a dirty look. She rolls her eyes with a smile, then blows me a kiss with her middle finger. "I loved those pancakes...and so did Kyle, once you left. And I _am_ allergic to Buttercup. At least, I get sick when I'm around him-" _sick with hate_ "-so tell me the surprise. I really want to know."

I gaze at her imploringly, horrified when I see her eyes had begun to water. Really, Madge is usually level-headed, so I'm surprised at this reaction. But I'm relieved to see her eyes dry up as her excitement returns.

"We're going with them on tour!" she belts out, shaking our joined hands with glee. "Gale arranged everything. He booked us an extra room with them at all the tour stops, and they were able to get a _big_ bus for us to ride on with them. We get to spend the next three months with them!"

I blink repeatedly at her, not moving. Somehow, the words aren't really registering. Slowly, the idea begins to sink in. We'll be gone for three months. Three whole months.

What the fuck?

"No, Madge," I scowl, ripping my hands from hers. I ignore the hurt look on her face when I say, "I can't _afford_ to take three months off work. It's _summer_. I refill my savings during the summer with tourist tips, you _know_ that Madge. Even if I get out of rent and expenses, I won't make it through the rest of the year without that money."

"Hey," Gale butts in, wrapping an arm around me. "No problem. It's actually worked out perfect, Katniss. Mom and Posy just sold the house now that Vick's ready to move out, but the apartment isn't ready until August, so they're subleasing yours until you get back."

"Great, Gale," I say, throwing his arm off me in anger. "That doesn't change the fact that when we get back I'll be broke."

Gale shrugs. "I'm going to cover you. _And_ Prim."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms at him, my anger rising.

"No, you're not," I snarl.

Gale reaches out and takes my shoulders in his hands, shaking me slightly in frustration.

"Catnip, you're my best friend. I haven't seen you in years and I've missed you. You got me through the roughest shit in the world when Dad died, you held me together. You talked me into leaving you behind to go to school. Now, I want us all to be together again, even if it is only for a little while." His eyes are imploring when he says, "Please come. It's also kind of a birthday gift for Prim, too. You wouldn't let down that face, would you?"

I look over to see Prim beaming at me, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she awaits my answer anxiously. And I realize, as I watch this, how little excitement Prim has had in her life. Like me, she's spent her time in college working to support herself. We've both missed out on so much of the college experience. And this trip would probably be like one big, long college party. It would make up for so much that she's missed.

I hear Finnick laugh over behind and beside me, his cackle melodious even in its impudence, as he says, "Well isn't that just the most adorable proclamation I've ever heard out of your lips, Gale Hawthorne." He walks up to me and clasps his hands in front of him like Prim, giving me a pouting look as he says, "Will you come, Katniss? Please?"

I risk a glance over at Peeta, who's been silent for so long. I'm surprised to find him looking at me intently...imploringly. He's got a half-smile on his face and his ridiculous blue eyes are sparkling with merriment...and a question.

_'Will you come?'_

The thought makes me shiver in the double meaning my over-heated body gives it.

I turn to Gale and say, "Fine. But I'm paying you back next summer. Every dime." I glance at Finnick's impish smile and roll my eyes. "And I want to sleep as far away from him," I jab my thumb in Finnick's direction, "as possible."

Gale laughs and throws his arm around my shoulder as the girls shriek with delight, Madge and Prim going so far as to actually clasp arms and give a little hop. Johanna's laughing too, but her laugh is brought down to a sexy tone by the stare she's giving Finnick, which he returns with a wink. I glance toward Peeta again and see he's smiling widely with everyone else, apparently pleased by my answer. I blush at this, but return his smile with a raise of an eyebrow that I hope says, _'Why do you care?'_

Peeta raises an eyebrow back at me, but instead of giving me an easy answer he merely shakes his head slightly while apparently fighting back amusement.

I'm annoyed by this and I'm about to give him a look that expresses this when Gale says, "Good, I'm glad. Because your bags are already packed, and that would have been awkward to try to explain later..."

I'm shocked by this. I turn to Madge, who's making a point of not making eye contact with me.

"Madge," I ask sternly. "How did you manage to pack up my bags when we've only been out of the flat for 3 hours...and you've been with me the whole time?"

Madge gives me a guilty look and is about to respond when Gale jumps in again and says, "Not Madge, Catnip. Cinna, our stylist. Madge gave him a key and he packed everything for you guys. I even gave him some money to pick you up a few things for on the road. Everything from toiletries to concert-appropriate attire, just to be sure."

I'm appalled. Not only by the fact that Gale has spent what I'm sure is another exorbitant amount of money in addition to what he's already giving me, but that a complete _stranger_ has been in my home, touched my things...packed my _underwear._ I'm furiously trying to remember when the last time I'd done laundry was and how far back in the drawer I'd shoved the emergency granny-panties the last time I'd put them in the underwear drawer. My math is not coming out to a number I'm comfortable with. I'd put off chores in favor of spending Prim's birthday with her, and I'm sorely regretting it now.

"Ah, calm down, Kitty," Gale says, using his most irritating nickname for me. "Cinna's professional _and_ a genius. You'll love him."

I'm at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the direction tonight has taken, so I do the only thing I can do to get my point across to Gale...I give him the bird.

I hear Finnick go into hysterics at my tactics and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me up against his firm chest. I see Johanna go visibly still at the gesture and I roll my eyes at her to make sure she knows just how annoyed I am by this...even though he's is warm and smells of sea-salt and man....

Damn.

Then Finnick says, "I like this one, Gale. We ought to kick you out for holding out on us like this. Probably would, if you weren't so damn good."

Gale rolls his eyes and gives Finnick a friendly shove. I brace myself to stumble at the impact, but Finnick doesn't move and he holds me tight against him to keep me steady.

"You forget who started this band," Gale says lowly. It's not unfriendly, but it's firm.

Finnick just stakes his head and laughs again. I get the impression this guy is the clown of the group, which is a feat with Rory in the group, who is usually the star clown of any crowd. "Yeah, yeah, Hawthorne. I know. You came up with the idea and Peeta named the band. I'm just some jerk you found in a fight club and Rory's the tag-along kid-brother."

"Hey," says Rory, speaking for the first time since the whole exchange began. "Speak for yourself. I've got skills, dude." He says this while puffing out his chest, which makes Prim giggle. "Having a brother in the band just jump-started things."

"Hey, Finnick," says Peeta softly, a smirk on his face. "Don't downplay yourself. You're an important asset. What's a band without their sex-symbol, ass-hole singer?"

Finnick surprises me by smiling widely. "Sex-symbol, huh?" He looks down at me, eyes shining, and asks, "Is that right, Kitty? Am I a sex-symbol?"

I grunt and shove him away from me, annoyed that he's picked up on the hated nickname. "You're forgetting the ass-hole bit," I spit out. But I can't help smiling at him because, really, this guy is hard to hate. You can tell that under the conceited exterior, he's a good guy.

"And she doesn't disagree," Finnick says, turning to throw a wink at Johanna, who's still fuming over our semi-embrace. "I'll take it."

Johanna rolls her eyes and looks away, but I can see the ghost of a smile on her face as she does. For a moment the wink seems to temporarily mollifying her. But I worry over this new obsession of hers in conjunction with our joining them on the tour. Johanna has a tendency to chew guys up and spit them out with a heartless ease, but once in a while she'll let herself fall for a guy who has no right to have a place in her heart. Those are the guys that usually crush her the most, and it takes us days to pull her out of the sex-and-alcohol binge that always follows. I just hope that Johanna has the ability to see a potential for disaster this time.

Madge gives me a look and I know we've been thinking the same thing.

_Yeah, right._

Prim breaks us from our trance when, rocking back and forth excitedly on her heels, she asks, "When are we leaving?"

Gale gives me a hesitant look before responding, "Tonight. The bags are already on board. Madge's dad hooked us up with a sweet bus, complete with a full bathroom so you guys can clean up. We have to head out by two sharp. We've got a six-hour drive ahead of us, and we have to be at the next stage by 9am for a sound-check before we can check in to the hotel."

I'm surprised by this. "Tonight? Really?"

Prim come up and takes my hands, encompassing them in her own and bringing them to her chest. I can feel hear heartbeat under my hands, racing with joy. She's beaming at me with a look as if I'm the best person in the whole world to her, her everything. And I can feel my heart jump in response, an echo to hers. My sister, my heart. My everything.

This will be worth it, to see her so genuinely happy for such a prolonged period of time. To give her this one, big adventure before she has to go back to school, finish her last year of college and then settle down in the real world. She'll be ruined by the monotony of it all, her youthful poise gone in the eight-to-five rush. I hope that by giving her this, by letting her soak up the gifts of youth one last time, I can give her a spark that will keep her young and vibrant as she goes through the rest of her life.

"This is going to be amazing, Katniss," she sighs, clutching my hands tighter. "I know this is hard for you, jumping on board with something so crazy. But you're the best sister in the world for this, you know?"

I nod, unable to speak, and I bring her into a hug. Over her shoulder, I can see Gale and Madge smiling at us, happy to have us all together again. Johanna is staring at Finnick with a predatory look that he's slyly returning, and I hope that she's finally met her match in him. And in the corner I see Rory and Peeta standing together, staring at Prim and I with matching looks that I can't place.

I close my eyes and breathe in the smell of sweet roses that is Prim, my sister, whom I love with all my heart.

And I know she's right. No matter what happens, this trip will be amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So my plan is to update this every Friday. I'm planning for this to be roughly 20 chapters long. It was originally supposed to be a 5-7 chapter fluff story but this Peeta and Katniss told me an amazing story that sort of ran away with me.
> 
> Just so no one panics on Gale's friendliness with Katniss--this is totally Everlark. But I'm not really a fan of making Gale out to be a huge douche, because I really didn't see him that way in the books. I mean, he made some pretty shitty decisions, but I can't judge him too much for it. He's a good friend to Katniss in the books and was driven to do awful things because of what the Capital had pushed them to. I'm not ever going to be an Everthorne, but I'm not a Gale-hater either.
> 
> A thousand thanks to my beta Court81981 from FanFiction who is one of my biggest supporters. Thank god for you, my dear.
> 
> Follow me on twitter--simplyabbeycat--and spread the news of the story!
> 
> Kisses and Love!


	3. Chapter 3

Seize Me

Chapter 3

_"You tell all the boys 'no'_

_Makes you feel good, yeah._

_I know you're out of my league_

_But that won't scare me away, oh, no."_

_Labrinth--Beneath Your Beautiful_

 

"God damn it, Johanna! We're going to _sleep_ as soon as we get on the bus. What could you possibly be doing in there?"

Madge is furiously banging on the door to the dressing room bathroom. The stylist Cinna, a handsome man with smooth chocolate skin and gold-flecked eyes, had brought us the overnight bags he'd packed for each of us for tonight. In them are travel toiletry essentials like body wipes, deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste, makeup remover, a brush, and a few ponytail holders along with a set of pajamas.  Johanna had been respectful enough to let birthday-girl Prim use the bathroom first to get cleaned up. But as soon as Prim had emerged, Johanna had launched herself into the bathroom for her turn.

That had been almost an hour ago.

"Just chill _out_ ," Johanna screamed back. "I'm almost done, you bitch. This shit doesn't just _happen_."

Madge groans. "You're taking your face _off_ , not putting it on. How much time do you need to wipe off the smell of ash and beer, clean your face and change your clothes?"

The door opens suddenly to reveal Johanna, whose tall frame fills a surprising portion of the doorway for someone who looks like a supermodel. She's got her hair wound up in a bun on the top of her head now, in a fashion so tight it makes my own scalp ache. Her club mask is gone, but I'm near exasperation when I see she's applied a fresh coat of makeup. This time it seems she's going for sweet and natural, but I can see the thin line of eyeliner and the mascara coating her lashes. This bitch has been in there prettying herself up for _bedtime_ just so she can impress a guy who will see her for a whole five minutes before we go to bed. I'm even more annoyed when I see what she's wearing.

"Oh my god," Madge groans. "There is no way that's what Cinna packed for you."

Johanna is wearing nothing more than a long, oversized t-shirt and slippers.

She smirks at our horrified expressions. "No, there were pants. But I get hot."

I cross my arms at her and roll my eyes in annoyance, "Can you at least wear them until we get on the bus?"

"No," Johanna says, walking past us coolly. "You're lucky I'm even wearing underwear."

Madge chokes in horror, but neither one of us can get something out in response before Johanna is out the door, heading in search of Prim and the guys.

Madge goes in next and I'm hoping that she'll be quick since we're running out of time and I still need to clean up myself. But despite alll the crap she gave Johanna, Madge has been in there a solid 30 minutes when I finally bang on the door.

"Everything okay in there?" I ask suspiciously.

"Oh," comes Madge's squeaking voice. "Yes, uhm...I just need a few more minutes."

And then, over the sound of running water, I hear the sound of something thick coming from a pressurized can...shaving cream? And then I put all together.

"Madge," I groan, pressing my forehead up against the door. "Really? Didn't you shave earlier tonight?"

"I missed a few spots!" Madge calls back indignantly. "Besides, I didn't know we'd for sure be leaving with them tonight."

I'm suddenly horrified. "Madge," I croak out, "please tell me you're not going to have sex on the bus with Gale. Not with all of us on it..." 

"No!" Madge sounds as equally horrified as I am. "That's gross, Katniss!"

"Well," I sigh, "then _why_ are you shaving again?"

Madge is silent for a moment, then calls back in a shrill voice full of panic, "I just need a few more minutes!"

I growl in frustration and turn around to press my shoulders against the door and throw my head back in irritation. When did my friends turn into such floozies?

And then I see Peeta, standing in the doorway to the hallway, staring at me. I'm like a deer caught in the headlights, going utterly still as soon as I see he's there. He's wearing that delicious leather jacket again and his blond curls are messy, like he's been running his hands through them anxiously since we last saw him. This suspicion is confirmed for me when he raises one hand and slides it through his hair while the other hand is partially slipped through a belt loop at his hips. And as I watch him do this I imagine girls all over swooning. The idea immediately annoys me for reasons I can't pinpoint. All I know is that his sudden appearance has me flustered and the only response I can muster is to glare at him.

"Are you..." he asks hesitantly, "Are you going to get cleaned up or are you going like that?"

I look down at my appearance, flustered at what I see. I've got my red leather jacket slung over my arm with my overnight bag. My stilettos, which I got tired of holding, are attached by the straps to one of my belt loops which leaves my feet bare and clumsy looking in comparison to my skinny jeans. My shirt is askew and stretched out from tugging at it anxiously all night, and I can see out of the corner of my eye that my braid is coming apart. I'm a mess, and he can see it.

"No," I sigh, closing my eyes in mortification and irritation. Because my friends can’t manage their time I now have to stand in front of the guy that makes _my_ insides tingle looking like a hot mess while the two of them are glossed and shaved to perfection.

If there is ever a time I'm going to hate my friends, it is going to be now.

"Then..." Peeta draws out, leaving the doorway and walking up to me. "...what are you waiting for? We leave in, like, 30 minutes."

I huff in response and push off the door to stand upright and cross my arms. "Because my friends are ridiculous. Madge spent an hour banging on the door to hurry Johanna up and now _she's_ been in there for another 30. Prim took a whole whopping 10 minutes, I don't get it."

Peeta shakes his head and laughs merrily. "Ok," he says, holding up his palms to me defensively. "I understand. If you want, there's a decent bathroom in the bus. I show you where it is, if you want, and that way you'll be ok if we have to go."

I'm simultaneously thrilled and anxious at getting to spend some time—even if it's only a few minutes—with him.

"Sure," I say, casting one last dark look at the bathroom door. "It's not like I'll get to use _this_ one anytime soon, anyway."

Peeta gives a soft laugh and turns away from me to walk back to the hallway. "Alright, Kitty," he says. "Follow me, I'll show you to the bus."

I growl softly in protest as I do a quick jog to reach him. "I hate that name, you know," I say derisively. "Gale only calls me that when he wants to piss me off."

Peeta gives me a broad grin over his shoulder and says, "I know."

* * *

Ok. So this tour bus is not what I was expecting at all.

From the outside, it looks pretty normal. It's just a plain old black bus, no fancy band decals on the side or anything to suggest modern rock royalty are traveling inside. Peeta says it's partially for their protection when they pull into a new town, but also because they've only got it on loan for this tour. If this tour pans out like they think it will, they'll probably end up buying it. But for now, they're renting it and trying it out.

I honestly can't see why they _would_ buy it. For a tour bus, it looks pretty drab. Not that I’m a tour bus buff or anything, but I just can’t see how this thing is supposed to comfortably transport eight of us across the country for almost an entire summer.

Peeta shows me the hatch on the side of the bus that all of our bags have been stored in. He says the driver can always pull over to let us get something out, but for time's sake I'd better get out anything I want before we get on the bus.

"I don't even know what's _in_ my bag," I mutter. " _I_ didn't pack it."

Peeta shrugs. "Cinna's a mind reader. I'm sure everything you need or want is in your bag."

I give Peeta a skeptical look but start scanning through the bags in the compartment. I don't see my ratty duffle bag anywhere in there. Did they even pack anything for me or did they just assume I'd go bitch on them and refuse to come? Forgetting that I _had_ originally refused to come, I'm pretty annoyed at the absence of my bag. I'm about to give up when I see a pristine set of red luggage with tags on them that say my name. I count four. There are four large luggage pieces with my name on them. I turn to Peeta, horrified.

"What the hell did Gale do?"

Peeta shakes his head, a small smile on his face. "I don't know if Gale had anything to do with this specifically. I know he gave Cinna a budget and told him to get you and Prim tour-ready. I'm pretty sure this is Cinna's doing. Why don't you pull that one out and check it? I'm sure the rest are clothes."

He's pointing to the smaller, almost duffle-bag-like one in front. I pull it toward me and marvel at the crisp canvas material under my fingers. It's brand new all right, fresh out the upscale department store I'm sure Gale sent Cinna to. I grab the black zipper and gently pull it to the side, biting my lip as the new zipper rumbles under my fingers. I hesitate for the moment, wondering what this Cinna character has packed for me. I tentatively pull the bag apart to gaze inside and I'm surprised by what I find.

It's a collection of random things from my apartment. My phone's car and wall chargers, lotion and my face mask for sleeping. My current book choice—a dog-eared selection of Richard Connell stories—is also in there along with most of my other most worn books and a small clip-on reading light for nighttime. I'm impressed with Cinna's selections. He'd obviously picked the books that looked the most used, knowing they must be my favorites. And I'm more relieved than I thought I'd be by their presence. I also see he's packed my laptop and several movies along with a set of earbuds and a neck pillow.

I pull out the car phone charger, the Richard Connell book and the small reading light, feeling much more at peace now that I've got these few familiar possessions with me. Then I zip the bag back shut and put it gingerly back in the luggage compartment. I don't need much tonight since it sounds like we'll be in the next town by the time we wake up, so I'll dig out the rest tomorrow. I turn to Peeta and see he's looking at me quizzically and staring at the book in my hands.

"Richard Connell?" he asks. I nod, raising my eyebrows at him and crossing my arms. I'm immediately on the defensive, not sure what to make of his sudden interest in my literature choices.

He steps closer and comes to stand behind my right shoulder, eyeing my book curiously as he does. I'm suddenly aware of how close he is, so close I can feel his breath on my neck as he looks down at the book. I go rigid immediately, not sure how to process the way the heat radiating off his body travels down my neck to my spine and settling in a wave of tingles straight down to my core. I'm waiting to see if he's going to touch me and I'm surprised to realize I want him to. I wonder how his fingers will feel. Gale's fingertips are rough from his bass...will Peeta's be too? He holds a hand out to me and I'm confused for a minute, not sure what he wants. And then I realize, frustrated, that he wants to see the book.

I sigh and uncross my arms to place the book in his waiting hand while giving him a firm look that leaves no question as to how I'll take criticism of my taste. He examines the book closely, taking in the bent and frayed edges of the cover and where my mom had scrawled my name over the page edges at the top of the book when I'd gotten been assigned the book in high school literature. He runs his fingers along the paperback binding, creased from frequent opening and closing and page marking, and a small smile flits across his face.

"Your favorite book?" he asks.

"For the moment," I respond with a shrug. "He's dark and twisted. He speaks to me sometimes, like his words are soothing. I feel better after I read one of his stories."

"You're an outdoor adventurist?" Peeta asks. I think I detect a hint of teasing in his tone and I immediately bristle at it.

"Is that a problem?" I ask. Peeta doesn't say anything. He just looks me straight in the eyes, his blue a sea of questions he doesn't voice, and I'm irritated further. "My dad took me hunting before he died." I say this in a blunt, fierce tone that I expect to shock him; I _hope_ will shock him—get him to stop asking questions. I expect him to be caught off-guard, but if he is,  it doesn't show on his face, which annoys me even more. "The outdoors is kind of my thing now," I conclude sullenly, looking away from him to gaze up at the sky. Back home you could clearly see every star in the sky. But here in the city with all the light pollution we're lucky to see the moon.

I wait for Peeta to question me about my dad in that annoyingly calm voice of his, but instead I hear him thumb through the small book, examining each page briefly before moving on to the next. I drop my gaze back to his face to watch his intent, puzzled expression as he flips through the book. I appreciate the brief moment to examine him while he looks over my book. He really is handsome in a very average way. Soft, pampered skin. Very 'American' blond hair and blue eyes. He gives a quick smile, and I notice for the first time how white and straight his teeth are. Not what I typically go for.

Actually, I tend to lean toward guys closer to my own appearance. Olive skin, brown hair and grey eyes. You could find this type easily back in Gale’s and my part of our hometown. He and I had grown up in a town of Panem county called, cleverly, District 12. Panem has 13 towns-slash-districts that, instead of being named, are numbered 1-13. At the center of the districts is The Capital. It houses the most wealthy of Panem County and is the home of Panem Central College, which is where all of us went to college—except Gale, who left Panem altogether to go to New York to study music. On the opposite side of the spectrum, District 12 is known as to hold the least wealthy of Panem, made up mostly of coal miners. And as if living in an already poor district wasn’t enough, Gale and I lived in a section of Twelve referred to loathsomely by Twelve’s town folk as "The Seam," an impoverish, grimy section of Twelve. There everyone looks like Gale and me? with matching olive skin, grey eyes and dirty brown hair. In drastic comparison, all of the wealthier people of Twelve who lived in town usually had blonde hair, fair skin and blue eyes.

Seam ‘brats,’ as we’re often called by the more uncouth people in town, have always been the people I'd shared a kinship with. As such, I'd always envisioned myself ending up with one of them. At one point I had thought it would be Gale. But, to my surprise, Madge's pretty blonde hair and stunning blue eyes had caught his attention. Gale, with his distaste for stuck up families in the town, had been the last person I'd imagined associating with people outside of the Seam. And Gale taking help from one of them to become a privileged man himself would have annoyed the hell out of me if it hadn't been sweet, loving Madge and her equally kind father to provide the help. And I’d really had no room to criticize when I’d grudgingly allowed Madge’s father to pay the deposit and utilities on our apartment all through college.

I'm made aware again that had it not been for him being in Gale's band I probably never would have noticed Peeta, whose blond hair and blue eyes scream of ‘town privilege’ in a way that makes my blood boil. But no, not even him being in Gale's band would have gotten my attention. It was the way Peeta had conducted himself on the stage that had pulled my eyes to him. He'd been sure of himself, comfortable in his own skin. That was something you didn't see in people from the city. They always seemed to be looking for some sign of approval, searching for something to show them that they belong. I'd only ever seen confidence like his in someone from the Seam, earned through a life of hard work and struggling. And maybe that was what had really attracted me to him. That and the way those ocean-blue eyes sucked me in and drew slow, burning magmas of passion through my veins.

Peeta brings me out of my musings with a small ‘huh.’ I’m surprised to see he’s stopped at my favorite story in the Richard Connell selection, the one short story I've read hundreds of times. The pages are more wrinkled here and you can see the odd stain here or there from food and drink that had been on my hands when I'd been reading. He runs his fingers over the title and asks, "The Most Dangerous Game?" He's referring to the title of the story he had just stopped at. He sounds surprised, as if this isn't what he'd expected.

I shrug. "Yeah. I don't know what it is about it, but there's something to be said about Rainsford. He's clearly the underdog, but he still wins. He's outmatched and facing almost certain death, but he manages to outsmart the General with traps and planning. It's so twisted, but it's my favorite Connell story."

Peeta chuckles and hands the book back to me. Our fingers brush for a second and I feel a small shiver shoot up my arm to my back, where it trails to my abdomen and curls into a delicious pool of attraction. It might have been enough for me to make some witty, flirty remark if I hadn't been so offended by the chuckle.

"What's so funny?" I snap, sticking my new possessions into my overnight bag.

Peeta shakes his head, still smiling. "Nothing," he says. He closes the hatch to the bus and I hear it click as it snaps closed. Then he turns away and leads me to the bus doors, turning to say, "It's just...it's my favorite too."

I'm so caught off-guard that I almost come to a stop at his words. The sudden, involuntary stop is not what the rest of my body was planning for. I fall forward and throw my hands out to brace myself on the closest thing to can stop myself on—Peeta's shoulders.

I get a sensation of steel under plush softness beneath my fingers for the half-second my hands clutch Peeta's shoulders. But then he's turned in front of me and catches my waist in his hands, helping me to right myself. His hands are warm at my hips, the heat moving slowly through my body from the point his hands meet my body. I can feel when the heat hits my face, manifesting itself in a betraying blush.

"Careful," Peeta says softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. He's got a small blush at his cheeks too, and I hope it's in a good sort of embarrassed way and not a 'oh my god, I hope she doesn't read too much into this' kind of way. "We still have to get in the bus, you know."

I scowl and push him away from me, muttering an apology. I sling my bag over my shoulder and turn my head away from him with the pretense of making sure my bag is zipped. I pray my braid is hiding my face as I feel a fresh wave of blush rise on my face.

"Just get me inside so I can get the bar smell off of me," I mutter. "It's making me gag."

Peeta's got a small smile on his face now, but he wisely doesn't say anything. Instead he turns and leads me to the stairs to the bus. I allow myself a brief moment to appreciate the way his ass looks in his jeans as he climbs the bus stairs then I follow after him.

I follow him up the stairs, watching my feet to make sure I don't do something embarrassing like trip again and this time knock him over. As much as I want this boy under me in so many different ways, having him in pain after I've knocked him over and fallen on top of him is not one of them. And after the mortification I've suffered tonight, I doubt I'm ever going to get him in the way my body _is_ screaming for.

It takes me a minute to realize that he's stopped walking and is staring at me expectantly. I look up at him and meet questioning blue eyes. I'm about to ask what he's waiting for when he nods his head in the direction of the main area of the bus, which I've yet to look at. I turn my head and am slightly dazzled by what I see.

The room we're standing in seems to double as a lounging and dining area. The couches that line one side of the bus are a pristine white and look like they'd engulf you completely if you sat down on one of them. Past the two couches is a long marble countertop with a sink, microwave and fancy coffee-maker. There's a small fridge on the other side of it and even a dishwasher under the counter top. Across from the countertop I spot two door panels. One is a solid wood and I suspect it's the pantry. The other door is glass and behind it is an expansive liquor selection and crystal glasses of different shapes.

_This_ is what I'd envisioned a rock star bus to be.

"The beds are through here," Peeta says, stepping in front of me and leading me down the bus. I follow after him, trying not to look like a gawking fool as I take in the elegant decor, including the crystal light fixture that runs the entire length of this section of the bus.

"Pretty ridiculous, huh?" he asks with a wide smile. "Mr. Undersee got it for us, it sleeps eight. It's meant to house an entire team, but we're using it to help transport you guys."

"Sorry to be a burden," I mutter, trailing my finger over the cold marble counters.

"Don't be," Peeta says. "We never get to travel in anything this swanky. Having you guys along was the perfect excuse for an upgraded ride."

Past the small kitchen is a plain, unadorned hallway with two large wood panels running horizontally on each side of the hallway. Beside each panel is a small electronic pad with four small buttons with up and down arrows on them and a small numeric pad beneath them. Peeta hits one of the buttons on a pad and the panel beside it rises up to reveal a bed. It appears to be a little smaller than a twin mattress and is tucked back into the wall. I'm surprised to see the bed already has my pillow on it along with the old blanket my mom knitted for me when I moved out for the college dorms. Peeta reaches inside the bed alcove and turns a knob above the pillow. As he does, a light above the bed turns on and becomes brighter the more he twists it.

"This is your bed," Peeta says with a small smile. "You can leave your stuff here. I can show you later how to program a lock on it so you're the only one who can open the panel. I'll show you where the bathroom is."

I quickly deposit my bag on the bed and pull out the things I won't need, keeping only my toiletries and pajamas still in the bag. Peeta waits patiently for me to finish, then pushes the 'down' button on the left side of the panel pad to close off my little cave. He turns to continue down the hallway of the bus, stopping to show me how to close the doors on either side of the bed area for privacy, then leads me to another small section of the bus. This section has a line of marble counters on one side with two dips in the counter to leave room for two large, comfy chairs. There are mirrors in front of the chairs and I imagine this must be a makeshift dressing area. I know Prim and Johanna will gush over this area for sure, and the idea brings a small smile to my face.

Opposite the small dressing area is a door, which Peeta tells me is the bathroom.

"Go ahead and do your thing," Peeta says as I open the door. "I'll go find everyone else and let them know we're ready to go."

"Thanks," I say softly, stepping into the surprisingly spacious bathroom. "I'll be quick."

Peeta gives me a wide, reassuring smile. My rebellious stomach does a little flop. "No problem," he says. And then he's gone.

I shut the bathroom door and lean against it. I close my eyes and thump my head back against the door in frustration. This whole thing is a very bad idea. The tour, missing work, being around Peeta. It's all a massive mistake that I know is going to end badly. And not just because I know that Johanna is going to do something stupid and fuck things up with Finnick, but because I think _I'm_ going to do something stupid to fuck things up with _Peeta_ and ruin this all for Prim. Which would only make things worse, because my sister is the only reason I'm doing this—to make her happy.

I groan and bring my hands up to run my fingers over my forehead and down either side of my face in resignation. I'm just going to have to remember that this is for Prim, not for the other girls and me to try to suck face with rock stars. I'm hopeful that I can remember myself, that I can focus on making this the best trip possible for Prim. I'm just still doubtful that Johanna is capable of not causing drama. If I thought saying anything would help, I would. But it would only make her pissy and more attracted to Finnick for the fact she's not supposed to have him.

I sigh and open my eyes, taking in the bathroom. It's white to match the rest of the bus's furniture, the countertop a cream marble with gold flecks speckled throughout. There's a large sink in the countertop and the mirror expands all the way across the five-foot counter. Next to the counter is a small toilet, which I vow to use only for emergencies, with a tasteful wreath and candle sitting on the tank lid. Across from the sink and toilet is a small shower, only about four or five feet wide either direction. A small sign is in the upper corner of the shower, requesting minimal use of three to five minute showers in emergencies only unless hooked up to a system.

I set my overnight bag on the counter and dump all of its contents into the sink then place the empty bag on the closed toilet. I strip down to my underwear and bra and fold my clothes up and set them in the bottom of my bag. I then work methodically through each product, starting by wiping down with the cleansing wipes a few times. After some lotion and deodorant, I'm already feeling a hundred times better. I find a small silver case in the pile of toiletries and open it to find a small assembly of tampons and panty liners inside. Amidst the assortment I see a small note on bright gold paper. It says " _I saw your calendar--thought you'd need these"_. I groan and stuff the note hastily back in the silver bag, cursing myself as I throw the little silver pouch back in my overnight bag. Leave it to Gale to employ a guy who not only pays attention to my period calendar but has the observational skills to recognize the brand of tampons under my sink back home and know I'll need more by the end of the tour, then supply them dutifully.

Fantastic.

I undo my ragged braid and brush out the tangles until my hair is loose and free. I shoot in a couple sprays of waterless shampoo to combat the oil and bar smells then brush through it a few more times. I put each product back in my overnight bag until all that's left is my make-up and toothbrush and toothpaste. I set the make-up bag off to the side and brush my teeth, feeling more and more human the longer I brush them.

Words cannot express how much better I feel after the quick ten-minute wipe down. The cleansing wipes did a decent job of getting off the sticky feeling a night in a club can bring. The make-up bag has remover that works perfectly and the accompanying facial lotion is soothing, especially under my eyes where my skin is puffy from the late night this has turned into. I comb out my hair one more time, letting my hair hang long for Prim to braid later. When I reach for the pajamas Cinna has packed, I realize they're my favorite set of pajamas, consisting of my oversized, long-sleeved Panem Central College shirt and a set of gold and black flannel bottoms to match. I'm relieved to see there's a simple white sports bra packed so I can keep my modesty around the boys without having to wear my uncomfortable underwire push-up to bed. I slide into the clothes, a sense of reprieve washing over me as the familiar fabric glides over my skin. I’m much more at ease like this, in clothing that sufficiently covers my skin and a fresh face without make-up. More like myself.

But then I realize that Peeta might be outside the door, waiting for me to finish getting cleaned up. I take a second look, frowning a little at what I see. Now that the make-up is gone my face is blotchy and uneven. My eyes are puffy with exhaustion and my lips are small and pale. The only thing I think I have going for me at the moment is my hair, which is wavy and full of body from the braid. And even that’s not going to last for more than twenty minutes.

And so I dig around in the overnight bag to find the small black clutch I’d stashed away after cleaning off the make-up. I won’t do much, I tell myself, only just enough so I don’t look like the walking dead. I only pull out two things: the concealer and mascara. I mix a little concealer with my facial lotion and rub it in my face. It’s just enough to even out my skin a little and make the bags under my eyes less noticeable without actually covering up my skin. The mascara is light, just a slight brushing against my eyelashes. But it makes my eyes stand out a little more and I look more alert than I did before. It’s all minor, but it makes me feel a little better about facing Peeta.

And then the reality of what I’ve just done hits me. I’m no better than Johanna and Madge, primping myself up for a boy when all we’re going to do is say ‘hi-bye’ then go to sleep. Disgusted, I pull out the make-up remover wipes again and rub off everything I’ve just done. I will _not_ be one of those girls. In fact, I don’t even want Peeta’s attention. Sure, it would have been nice to have him in bed for a night, but that was when it would have only been a one-night thing. Now that I’ll see him almost every day for three months, I’m not the least bit interested. It invites far too much drama for what I’m capable of handling and I really just want to focus on having a good time with the girls and reuniting with Gale. No sex. No boys. No feelings. Just relaxing and reconnecting.

I let out a quick huff and throw everything back into the overnight bag hastily, not bothering to fold anything. I zip the bag shut and throw it over my shoulder before turning to face the bathroom door. I can hear other voices outside the door now. Madge and Prim are talking quickly with a voice I think belongs to Gale. I can also hear Johanna's throaty laugh and the deep baritone of Finnick's answering chuckle. I even think I hear Peeta chime in a time or two.

I reach for the handle, but I stop halfway to the knob. For whatever reason, I'm nervous about going out there and facing the jolly group. It's not that I'm unhappy to be here with them, because I am. I just feel like I'm not as happy as I should be. It takes me a moment, but I'm able to pinpoint my fears. Everyone is so carefree, caught up in the thrill of doing something crazy and spur of the moment. But I'm tramatized by it. Ever since our dad died, I've had to take over caring for Prim and my mom. Mom's spirit had been crushed by our sudden loss of Dad, all the will to care for herself or her children vanishing. Mom had eventually come out of it, but not soon enough to save my childhood.

But Prim's _had_ been saved, to a point. She may have had to take a job after school to help with money, but I'd made sure she wasn't desperate enough for cash that she'd had to miss out on football games or dances. Even in college I'd made sure she could afford every book she'd needed and could get in the best dorm I could manage to scrape together the cash for. And for the hundredth time tonight I remind myself that I'm doing this for Prim, to savor with her this last moment for child-like glee.

And so I make myself reach the rest of the distance and grab the doorknob, turn it, push open the door, and join my friends.

As I step out in the hallway, I can hear that the voices are coming from my left, at the end of the bus. I follow them, reassured by the increasing volume the further down the bus I travel. I find them all sitting in what looks like a small theater. At the very end of the bus, I can see a flat-screen tv playing some random channel I don't recognize. There are black leather couches lining the entire room, the only division between them the small walkway I'm standing in. My friends all sit on the these couches, sipping on what look like glasses of red wine. Yes, I can see it's wine now, the empty bottle sitting on table at the center of the ring of couches. I can tell they're all winding down, everyone in their own set of pajamas. Thankfully Johanna has a blanket slung over her lap so we're spared her bare legs and glimpses of her underwear.

"Katniss!" calls Prim. She looks much less sloshed now, which I attribute to the spread of rolls, meats and cheeses spread out in front of the group. "You're here!"

I smile at my baby sister, able to be more relaxed and teasing about her drunkenness now that we're in the safety of the bus. I risk a glance over at Peeta, who's looking at me keenly with twinkling eyes that seem to hold something I'm unable, or unwilling to process. He gives me a sweet and shy half-smile, then makes a 'wave' movement with his hand next to his ear. He's indicating my hair, which is still loose and unbraided. He mouths _'I like it'_ with a wink, and I'm imidiatly flustered.

I need to bite my rising affection for this boy in the bud, before it gets out of hand. So, I turn to Prim and say, "Prim, can you braid my hair?"

Prim shakes her head, giggling as the motion throws her slightly off balance. "Not tonight, Kitty-Kat," she mumbles happily, using the nickname only she's ever been allowed to utter. "I couldn't even if I wanted to tonight."

"Peeta said he'd shown you the bathroom," says Gale. "Somebody took too long?" He says this last bit while looking at Madge and nudging her shoulder with his.

Madge blushes. "Well Johanna took nearly an hour!"

I roll my eyes at Madge, plunking myself down between her and Prim.

"Please," I say, taking the glass of wine Prim hands me. "You were at half an hour when I left you."

Johanna snorts. "She only met us just now as we were getting on the bus." She turns to Madge, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. "I'd guess that puts you at nearly an hour yourself."

While Madge is fumbling over excuses, I take one of the plastic plates set out and load up my plate with food, my stomach growling for a midnight snack after all the anxiety the night has brought. The cheese is smooth and creamy, in perfect harmony with the juicy and salty deli meat. I savor the flavors, closing my eyes at the heaven. Really, rock stars get the best grub. I tell myself I'm responding this way to the meat purely on flavor, and not because Peeta is watching me so closely from his seat with Rory and Finnick on the couch opposite me. The hungry look in his eyes may be directed at the spread of food, but for a moment I allow myself to believe it's me he's looking at that way.

I'm washing the meat and cheese down with the last of a roll and my wine when a man's voice comes over the speakers in the room.

"Okay, folks," the disembodied voice of our driver says. "We're getting ready to take off. We'll be in New York in six hours with an ETA of 8am. Wake-up call at 7:30am."

Finnick groans and throws back the last of his wine with a grimace.

"Damn, I forgot how much I hate festival dates," he mutters, staring at his now empty glass.

"F-Festival?" Prim asks mid-yawn. "Tomorrow's a festival?"

"Yeah," Rory says with a sigh while rubbing his eyes with his fists. "It's a big concert with a bunch of big-name bands. We have to do a soundcheck at by 9am, then don't get our turn to play until two. And we can't even enjoy the festival until we're done playing, per our slave driver."

"You have a slave driver?" Johanna asks with a smirk. "Kinky."

Finnick chortles. "She's a joy. You'll get to meet her tomorrow. She's already there now getting everything ready."

"Tomorrow is one of the bigger dates," Gale explains. "With a big exposure event like tomorrow, we'll get more in ticket sales for the rest of the tour. So she's there to make sure everything is 'perfect'."

Suddenly the bus roars to life under us, moving forward with a jolt that makes Prim spill her wine on Johanna's lap.

"Damn it, Prim!" Johanna growls. Luckily, the wine landed only on the blanket on Johanna's lap. And even more lucky, the blanket is the exact same shade of red as the wine we've been drinking.

"Oh my gosh!" Prim exclaims, setting down her glass and picking up a napkin from the table to dabble at the wine of the blanket. "I'm so sorry, Johanna."

Gale chuckles and stands with a stretch then helps pull Madge up beside him. He reaches over and swoops up the blankets corners expertly, wrapping the blanket into a ball with the stain on the inside.

"Alright," he says with a sweet smile to Prim. "I think that's a sign it's time to hit the hay. Katniss," he says, turning to look at me. "Can you show the girls how to work the beds?"

"Where will you sleep?" Madge asks sweetly, giving Gale a quick squeeze on the arm.

"The couches at the front fold out into beds, so Finnick and Peeta will take those. These couches in here also fold out, so Rory and I will be in here." He gives Madge a sweet kiss on the lips. "We're all on either side of you guys, so you're safe here with us."

Rory and Gale help Peeta and Finnick gather up the remainder of the deli spread, which they take up to the kitchen and store in the fridge. Then the girls and I bid the boys goodnight and I show the girls how to close and lock the electronic sliding doors on either side of our bed compartment. When I open up each of our beds,  the girls ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ at the beds.

"This is so cool!" Prim exclaims, climbing up to her bunk above mine. "How cool is this?"

"Very cool," Madge responds as she turns off the compartment light. We're immediately plunged into darkness. I turn the crank of the light over my pillow, telling each of the girls how to turn theirs on as well.

"These aren't going to, you know," Johanna asks softly from her bed above Madge's, "close on us during the night, are they?"

I think about this for a moment, not having considered this before. "I don't think so," I finally say. "If yours does, I promise to let you out before lunch."

"Oh, haha," Johanna mutters. She then turns off her light and I can barely make out her turning over, effectively signaling the end of conversation and the beginning of bed.

I chuckle and bid the girls goodnight, sliding my sleep mask over my eyes to shut out the last bit of light coming from Gale and Rory's room under the door. The mask is in instant sleep signal to my brain and I can immediately feel myself drifting off to sleep. I'm nearly out when I hear Prim's soft voice fall from above me.

"Katniss?" Prim whispers softly.

"Yeah?" I respond sleepily, keeping my voice as quiet as possible to avoid Johanna's wrath.

"You're the best sister ever."

I smile at this. "I'll never be as good as a sister as you, Little Duck." I pause for a minute, then add, "I love you."

"I love you too."

And Prim's words echoing in my head are the last thing I hear as I finally fall into sweet dreams of music and ocean-blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand apologies for missing the update last week! I thought I'd set it up to post it automatically last week BUT apparently I fail at technology.  
> To make up for it, I'll update twice next week.  
> Thanks to the lovely Court81981 for taking on the task of betaing for me :)  
> Kisses!


	4. Chapter 4

Seize Me

Chapter 4

_"I'm in love with a girl I hate,_

_She enjoys pointing out every bad thing about me._

_I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic, a traitor,_

_I'd trade her in a second."_

_Forever the Sickest Kids-She's a Lady_

When all is said and done, I get probably close to five hours of sleep.

And Madge knows this, which is probably why she's made a point of avoiding me as a rule this morning, aside from when she'd handed me my coffee. And steering clear of someone on a tour bus—even one as large as this one—is a feat. So she must be really worried about my sleep-deprived angry bear side showing up this morning.

Which, in any other situation, it would.

But it's hard to be irritable when Prim is gently brushing my hair and weaving it into an intricate braid while humming along to the groove Gale's picking out on his bass over at his end of the couch. Peeta's sitting on the other couch across from us, nodding occasionally and hitting a few notes on his guitar now and then to go along with what Gale's doing, making suggestions here and there on key changes or complementing rhythms. I close my eyes and lean into Prim's hands, letting the relaxing croon of Gale's bass guitar and Prim's expert hands lull me into a state of utter Zen. That is, until Finnick ruins it by stopping his frantic pacing in the small room and throwing the notepad he'd been scrawling on against the wall in frustration.

"I'm telling you," he snarls, throwing his hands up in the air agitatedly. The pen he'd been holding also goes flying haphazardly through the small space as he says, "This sounds like everything else we've put out."

"Chill out," Rory replies coolly. He's leaning back in his armchair and spinning one of his drumsticks around his fingers with practiced ease. "People  _like_  what we've been playing. What's wrong with keeping it up?"

"Putting out new music is a gamble," Finnick groans. He throws himself down on the small bench at the makeshift kitchen table, putting his elbows on the table and his face in his palms in exasperation. "You keep doing the same thing, they'll say you're a one-trick pony. Try something too different, they'll say you're trying too hard." He parts his fingers to give Rory a stern look between them. "They don't know what they want, so we have to figure it out ourselves and then convince them we got it right."

"I don't get it," Johanna huffs from her seat on the kitchen counter. She doesn't look up when she talks; instead she keeps her gaze riveted on her nails, which she's filing into perfect U-shapes. "Don't you have, like, a research team who finds out for you?"

Peeta speaks up now, his and Gale's attention having left the music to focus on Finnick's temper tantrum. "Sure, we have people who look at what kind of music is trending best with people nowadays." He gives a small shrug of resignation and says, "But the good artists are the ones who  _make_  the music that set the trends. Some artists are content with always being followers, but we decided early on that's not what we do."

"Fight the man," Gale says with a goofy smile.

Peeta shakes his head. "I don't think fighting the man is really what we're going for." He gives Gale a fake patronizing smile that makes Prim giggle.

Gale throws out his hand at Peeta, flipping (it) in a downward (cut), waving Peeta off. The driver announces that we've arrived at the festival grounds, so Gale sets his bass off to the side and stands up to stretch, sighing as a few of his joints pop with the movement. Rory stands up and without a word, heads toward the back of the van. Following Gale's cue, Peeta also rises and grabs his guitar case and Gale's bass case. They each take a minute to loosen the strings a little to protect them while they're in the cases, then pack them up and sling them over their shoulders.

Madge stands and wraps her arms around Gale's waist, squeezing him tight.

"Hey," says Gale as he smiles and hugs her back. "We'll only be a little bit. We just have to get everything set up and checked then we'll meet you guys at the hotel. No worries."

Rory comes bounding back into the kitchen/dining/sitting room, weighed down by our overnight bags. Prim quickly finishes the elaborate braid she's been weaving in my hair and stands up to help him, thanking him profusely in her sweet little soprano voice that makes Rory go red with pleasure. He refuses to let her help, saying he'll put them in the car that's taking us to the hotel. Finnick follows him, calling that he'll help get the last of our luggage moved over to the car, and Johanna hastily skitters after him. Madge and Gale follow them, Gale continuing to reassure Madge that they won't be long and no, she shouldn't wait here for him, she should go back and relax at the hotel.

And suddenly I'm very aware that Peeta and I are the last ones left in the van.

Peeta slings his guitar case strap over his shoulder and gives me a wide smile.

"Excited to shower?"

I groan, suddenly more aware than ever of how sticky my skin feels, despite the quick wipe-down from last night. Luckily Prim's got my hair tied up so the greasiness shouldn't be so obvious. But I feel like he can smell me from where he's standing several feet away, and all I can concentrate on now is the itch of grossness that seems to have coated me within the last 24 hours.

Peeta chuckles. "Yeah, me too." He glances toward the door to the bus and sighs, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "But this shouldn't take too long. There are a couple other bands who want to get set up too, so they won't let us hog the stage for very long. The only reason they're doing this is to keep things moving as fast as possible to avoid stalling between bands."

I'm surprised by this. "I thought that's where venues made all their money—when people go buy beer between sets."

Peeta lets out a bark of a laugh that startles me. "Yeah, usually. But in a crowd this big—like, half a football stadium big—things can get out of hand quickly if they have a chance to get rowdy. The shorter time between sets, the less time people have to incite a riot."

Big crowd? Riots?

Ok. I don't know how this didn't occur to me before. I mean, when they said 'festival,' I should have known this wasn't going to be a club scene like before. But for whatever reason, I hadn't really considered the fact there'd be a large number of people there. And I hate big crowds. A bar full of people I can handle. But a freaking sea of people who could crush me in a second? Yep, not my thing.

"Hey," says Peeta softly. He reaches over and  _takes my hand_. He wraps his fingers around my hand, squeezing in a way I'm sure he meant to be reassuring but really just makes my pulse race and my cheeks turn red. "Don't worry. Unless you want to, you guys won't even have to be in the crowd. You can hang out with us and the rest of the bands and watch the show from the wings." His smile is sweet and his eyes kind as he locks his gaze encouragingly with mine. "You'll have nothing to worry about."

I stare at him, not sure how to respond. I just met this guy yesterday; what's he doing talking to me like this as if he knows me? I'm torn between thanking him shyly or ripping my hand out of his with a curt word on personal space. But he doesn't give me the chance. Peeta immediately drops my hand and gives me an easy smile, shifting this strap of his guitar case again and sliding one hand through his hair. I wonder for a minute what his hair feels like—if it's as soft as it looks. But his easy, self-assured grin annoys me and I put my hands on my hips and lock eyes with him defiantly.

"Are we going?" I ask curtly. I have to stop this flirting of his and stop it now before anyone —including me —gets the wrong idea.

I expect Peeta to look offended or hurt, but he doesn't. Instead he gives me a wide smile and sweeps his arm out in front of him to gesture toward the bus door. His grin is teasing, his eyes twinkling as if he's amused by my antics. So I roll my eyes and without another word, leave him behind in the bus.

The boys will take a separate car to the hotel after the soundcheck and the van will stay here at the stadium until we're ready to go to the next venue. So it's just our luggage that's been piled into the sleek compact limo that's waiting for us outside the bus. The other girls are saying good-bye to the boys, but I don't say anything, making a beeline instead for the car. Gale calls out something about seeing me later, but I only wave my hand at him dismissively before yanking open the car door and throwing myself inside to escape the white-hot gaze on the back of my head that I know is Peeta's.

The car is just as sleek inside as it is outside. Everything is black leather with a bench running along the length of the car as well as facing the front and back of the limo in a horseshoe shape. I find a bottle of champagne and four glasses sitting in the small cooler and waste no time popping it open and pouring myself a glass, downing half of it in one long swallow.

"Geez," huffs Johanna, sliding in beside me. "Thanks for waiting for us."

"Oooo," sighs Prim, sliding in after Madge and Johanna. "Champagne!"

We all look at her, staring as she pours herself a generous glass. Not only had she managed to hold down glass after glass of alcohol last night, but she'd popped up this morning chipper as a daisy with not even a headache to show for how much she'd abused her body last night.

"I retract," scowls Johanna, "any 'light-weight' references I may have every made about you, Prim."

"Girl knows how to hold her liquor," Madge says, giving me a secretive smile as Johanna hands her a glass.

Once everyone has a glass, we all put them together in toast as Johanna declares, "To livers of steel."

Prim gives a laugh and adds, "And lots of practice at frat parties."

And everyone breaks into hysterical laughter as I splutter, choking on my champagne in horror.

* * *

I don't think any of us were expecting a room quite so extravagant as the one we walk into.

The front room is beautiful, all red and gold in color. The couches are a plush microfiber designed to perfectly contour to your body, all facing a large flat-screen TV. The entire far wall is solid glass, which we can darken with a remote we find on the desk. The kitchenette off to the side of the room has a full stove, oven and fridge, each one stainless steel and covered with different function buttons. The counters are a cream color like the ones on the bus with a rusty-red and gold flecking to complement the front room decor. The bedroom's equipped with two king-sized beds, two full chest dressers, and a large entertainment center holding another large flat-screened tv. The far wall in here is also solid glass, with red floor-to-ceiling curtains that can be electronically pulled to cover the window. The beds are simple with cream comforters and plush red pillows, each with a small box of Godiva chocolates—yum—on them. The connected bathroom is separated from the bedroom by frosted glass walls. The bathroom sports a whirlpool and a shower big enough for at least three or four people, and I try to ignore all the different scenarios I imagine could have taken place in there.

Johanna seems to be thinking the same thing I am, but she hardly has my tact.

"Holy shit," she mumbles, nudging Prim and Madge hard in the elbows. "Talk about a bathroom fit for a rock star."

I'm sure Prim hears her, but she's very good at pretending she hasn't. Instead she walks past us and the small crew of staff depositing our luggage on the bed to go back to the front room. She checks out a door I'd previously thought was a closet or the like, but I can see now it's got a key-card reader on it identical to the one on the front door.

"I'll bet this," she says, sliding the key-card into the lock, "connects to the room next door." She swings the door open to show another door on the other side of it. "If both doors are open, the rooms are conjoining." She turns and gives the three of us a wide smile. "I'll bet the boys are on the other side."

I look over and see Johanna looking back at the bedroom thoughtfully then turns to give the rest of us a sly smile. I think we all register what she's about to do about a second too late, because Johanna manages to rush to the bedroom—nearly knocking over the small crew who've just finished depositing the last of our luggage in our room—and seize her luggage then dive into the bathroom before I can blink. But Madge is faster and she makes a break for it, determined to cut Johanna off before she can successfully plant herself in there, but she's too slow. With a maniacal cackle I know she's spouting just to piss Madge off, Johanna slams the door in Madge's face.

"That bitch," Madge sighs, rubbing her nose and falling down on the bed as Prim and I follow her to the bedroom, ignoring the exiting staff who are staring at us peculiarly. "It's like she's so insecure that she needs to make sure the rest of us look like hags so Finnick will only notice her."

"Actually," Prim says as she sits down beside Madge, "I think the one she's worried about is Katniss."

"Ha!" Johanna shouts from the bathroom. I can hear the shower turning on and I'm overwhelmingly grateful she's not decided to soak in the whirlpool. "Like Finnick could even get Katniss to give him a second look, what with the way she's been making goo-goo eyes at Peeta."

Madge and Prim's gazes are on me instantly, their eyes wide in surprise.

"Really?" Madge asks, one corner of her mouth curving up into an amused smile. "Peeta?"

"No!" I shout, appalled. I stand firmly in the doorway between the front room and bedroom, ready to bolt from their scrutiny at a moment's notice. "No boys, Madge. I've already decided to swear off boys on this trip."

"Well that's not fun," Prim says with a roll of her eyes. "He's totally into you too."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing without any real mirth. "I sincerely doubt that, Little Duck."

Prim goes to say something, but Madge cuts her off. "Don't even try to convince her," she tells Prim, giving me a teasing sideways glance. "She never seems to believe that anyone could take an interest in her."

I try to come up with something to say in retaliation to this, but I've got nothing. And that's because it's true. I've never had anything to offer in any of my relationships with anyone except for Prim and Gale. Gale and I both worked together to keep sane after the deaths of our fathers and the sudden burden of caring for families neither one of us were prepared for. For Prim, I've given everything I have left—my time, my money, my energy. Johanna and I hadn't had anything else to give each other except our company and sarcasm, which is probably why we'd stuck with each other as long as we had. With Madge...well, Madge I really hadn't had anything for her, and she'd given me the world: friendship, financial support, housing after graduation. Madge had been a well of goodness for me. And I'd had nothing to offer her in exchange. And if I had nothing for Madge, I certainly didn't have anything for anyone else. So why would anyone take an interest in me?

So for now I allow the conversation to drop where Madge has left it, instead joining them in unpacking our bags. I'm sickened when I realize that nothing in the bag is mine from home. Actually, the bag is full of clothing you'd only see on the most chic of punk-rock girls, largely featuring leather and interesting cuts of different colored cloths. A quick glance over at Prim and Madge tells me their bags contain similar clothing, although Prim's reaction is very different from Madge's and mine.

"This is  _so_  cool," she exclaims, ripping piece after piece out of the bag. It's almost comedic, really—like she's discovered Mary Poppins' endless bag of goodies. By the time she's done emptying the bag, she's covered an entire bed with its contents. Among the clothes, she's also located a small plastic parcel, which she unties to reveal a long roll of fabric with several pockets, all filled with pieces of jewelry. Prim's eyes are wide as saucer plates as she takes it all in, and my initial horror at the spread is replaced with a small bit of pleasure at watching Prim's joy. She's never had pretty, nice things to enjoy, and I'd always hated the looks she got in grade school in her hand-me-down dresses. I know I'll have to work overtime to pay Gale back for all of this, but in this moment I know it's worth it.

"I can't believe that Gale Hawthorne," Madge sighs, fingering a lacy shirt forlornly. "He must be doing better than I thought."

"I'm going to kill him," I mutter half-heartedly as I start to pick through the clothes.

"Good," Madge says with a smile. "It will save me the effort."

We—and by 'we' I mean Madge and Prim—are just starting to pick out outfits for the three of us when Madge pipes up without warning, catching me off guard.

"He remembered you from when you visited Gale a few years ago," Madge says nonchalantly, although I can see her watching me closely for a reaction. "Peeta did," she clarifies when she sees the confused look on my face. "He'd asked about you after you left, wanted to know how you'd been since graduation."

"Graduation?" I ask, confused. I don't trust myself to look her in the eye. Instead I keep sorting through my bag, trying to find something I can imagine myself buying on my own volition. So far, no luck.

Madge shrugs and says, "Yeah, he went to highschool with us." She stares at me now, watching me pointedly avoid her gaze as I rifle through the endless array of clothing. Then she realizes I genuinely don't know what she's talking about. "Oh my God," she says softly. "You really don't remember him do you?"

I swear her head goes in a full 360˚ when I shake my head 'no,' still unable to meet her eyes. I don't know why I'm so embarrassed by it. Maybe because, based on the way my body's responding to him now, it must have been a feat for me to have been totally oblivious to him in high school. I could argue I'd been too distracted to notice boys, but that's not really true. I'd had a few boyfriends in high school, even more in college. So, there's no reason I wouldn't have remembered him.

"Katniss," she hisses in exasperation. "He was on the wrestling team. His family ran the bakery in town. He was in our  _class_."

"No way," I say as I rise from my bag and cross my arm indignantly. There's no way I'd been so disinterested in boys during high school that I'd missed eyes that blue. "I'd remember him."

"Please," Johanna said, stepping out of the bathroom. "You were oblivious to anyone outside of our little group."

I'm shocked to see her coming out so soon, one towel wrapped around her waist and another tied like a turban around her head. I'd been expecting it to be almost an hour before we saw her again. A quick glance at the clock tells me she's only been in there about fifteen minutes. I can see a look of surprise on Madge's face too, but I don't get to look at her long because she's immediately diving into the bathroom and slamming the door on Johanna before she can even twitch in the direction of going back in. The look on her face is enough to send both Prim and me into fits of laughter, to which she responds by sticking her nose up in the air and dropping her towel with a smirk, leaving her standing there in nothing but the towel on her head.

Prim and I immediately stop laughing.

* * *

Remarkably, all of us are in and out of the shower in an hour. Prim's taken on the task of doing all of our hair and, despite Madge's and my protests, Johanna tackles our make-up. But I'm pleasantly surprised with the results, as is Madge. Johanna has expertly lined our eyes and has applied high and low lights on our faces in all the right places, and I'm relieved to see she's kept the liner and shadow to a modest level in comparison to the dark lines her high cheekbones can pull off. Prim's done my hair in a waterfall braid that stops at the scalp and she ties it off into a ponytail with a black ribbon. Madge's is up in an elegant pile on top of her head, but for herself, Prim just weaves a simple braid across the top of her crown, using it as a hair band for the rest of her hair. Johanna refused styling, instead going for her usual high and tight ponytail.

Prim and Madge have manage to wrangle me into a pair of leather hot-shorts, which I only allowed when they promised I could wear stockings under them to cover the exposed skin. However, I hadn't had the foresight to says what  _kind_  of stockings, so they'd put me in a set of black lace stockings they'd found in my bag. I had silently cursed the stylist Cinna for his selections, but I'd internally retracted my anger when I realized they actually did do a pretty good job of covering my legs. Madge had talked Prim out of the black corset she'd picked out for me, alternatively choosing a simple black V-neck similar to my one from last night. Prim and Madge have dressed similarly in tight black skinny jeans and flowing, brightly colored tops.

Johanna, unable to resist her need to top us all, is wearing a set of tight black leather pants with a white tank-top with a neckline so low I almost blushed for her sake. Thankfully, the plunging neckline has three strips of cloth keeping it from widening and Cinna had packed her some sticky tape to keep  _things_  in place. You'd think after years of minimal clothing and raunchy talk all these years I'd be used to her. But I still find myself mortified in her presence when she's dressed like this.

"You're not going to try to seduce Finnick tonight, are you?" Madge asks suspiciously. Johanna's sly smile in answer makes Madge moan. "Come on, Johanna. How are the rest of us supposed to sleep when  _that's_  going on?"

"Wait," I ask, an idea occurring to me. I raise my eyebrow at her and give her my best 'stern' look. "What  _are_  the sleeping arrangements?"

Johanna looks like a Cheshire cat who has just caught the biggest mouse to ever have the misfortune of straying in her path. "Yes, my dear Madge," she asks slyly. "What  _are_  the sleeping arrangements?"

Madge groans. "Oh, come off it you two. I'll be in here with you guys, and Gale will be in the next room with Rory, Peeta and Finnick."

"You guys don't want your own room?" Prim asks innocently. "I'd have thought you'd want to sleep next to him, what with you guys not having seen each other in so long."

Madge actually blushes now and completely turns away from me, unwilling to meet my eye now. "We'll…we'll have lots of time together later."

"Later?" I get a sickening sensation when she looks away, the kind I get whenever she's about to drop a very unpleasant bomb on me. "What do you mean?"

Madge turns back to me, and I can see she's biting her lip now, something she does whenever she says something she knows I'm not going to like. "I'm not resigning our lease with you next year."

"You're…not?" I ask, the bottom of my stomach abruptly falling out. It's funny, in a way, how that one sentence sends me reeling so easily. "But…we were going to resign online next week."

Madge looks completely guilty right now and I know that she's been holding on to this for a while now, worried about what I'll say. She takes hold of her shirt, fingering the bottom hem nervously as she talks. "Gale…Gale asked me to come to California with him. I'm going to go live with him there."

I'm completely dumbstruck. I fall back and sit on the bed, my knees going out from under me. What will I do next year? No way can I afford rent on my own, and everyone else already has roommates by now. How could Madge do this to me?

"When did this happen?" I ask quietly. It's now my turn to be unable to look Madge in the eyes. I'm very hurt by this, more than I'd ever really expected to be. I'd never really seen myself as overly dependent on Madge for anything, but the idea of her not being there next year puts a sick feeling of dread in my bones. Who will keep me sane? First Gale left, now Madge? And with Prim's last year of college coming up she's going to leave me soon too. I'm going to be alone, living in a tiny little apartment with nothing to do but stare at my walls and count all the ways I wish things would have turned out differently.

"Right before the tour." Madge sits down softly next to me and I can tell how sorry she is in the way she's looking at me. Her sadness is evident and soothing to my pride. "I graduated, so there's nothing holding me here. No job, no apartment anymore. I can go live with him now. We don't have to be separated anymore."

"Until he leaves you to go party on tour with his buddies," I grumble out. I know I'm not being fair, but her comment on nothing holding her here anymore stings.

Well, if she doesn't see the value in our friendship and rooming together then what do I see in it? Nothing, that's what. If Madge can up and leave me so easily, why should I be bothered enough to care that she's doing it?

"That's not how it is with Gale and you know it," Madge says, draping an arm around my shoulder. "I'd ask you to come with us, but I know you won't leave Prim. You and I both know that you'll probably never leave Prim behind. And I don't fault you for that." She says quickly as she shakes her head and I can see how sad upset she is by this. "But I need to be with Gale. I have to. We've survived the separation this long, but I don't know how much longer I can stand only seeing him on tabloid covers. Being with him will make everything so much better. Can't you understand that, Katniss?"

I close my eyes shut hard, squeezing them closed in frustration as my hands ball up into fists. I hate that she's right. I won't leave Prim behind, which means I can't go with her to California. I wouldn't do well in a concrete jungle anyway. Too much of my blood is filled with the life of the forest around Twelve. Between Prim and the woods, I could never leave Twelve behind. Not for anything. I'm tied to the woods indefinitely, drawn to them most in the moments I'm at my saddest. My father always took me to the woods; he taught me how to use a bow and arrow. That bow and arrow were my strength, and they reminded me I'm not as powerless as I'd always thought I was. The thrum of earthly energy that flowed from my woods through me and into my bow were the only thing that had kept me sane after his death. And when I'd found Gale in those woods after our dads died, crouched over some kind of trap he'd been making up, he'd become a source of strength for me too.

No, I could never leave Twelve or its woods behind.

"I understand," I say softly. I turn and look at Madge, saying the next thing that comes to mind. "Who will I live with next year with you gone?"

Prim jumps in immediately at this, a wide smile breaking her face nearly in two. "Me!" she says excitedly. She comes bouncing over to me from her seat by the window and plops down on the other side of me so hard that Madge and I bounce a little on the bed with the movement.

I turn to her, unable to process what she's saying, what she means. "You?" I ask quietly.

Prim nods excitedly, grasping my hands in hers. "I didn't register for the dorms this year. When Madge told me she was moving to California, I knew you'd need a roommate." She looks bashful now as she says, "I hope you don't mind."

My mouth falls open, and I'm temporarily speechless. I can't seem to process what she's saying, can't wrap my head around the idea that she'd be just down the hall from me. I've felt so disconnected from my sister since I'd left for college, and the ache in my chest has become a permanent sort of fixture inside me. It lifts somewhat at the feeling of hope that accompanies the idea of living with her again. Then I manage to say, "What? Are you kidding? Of course I don't care, Prim. That's amazing."

Prim's ridiculously large smile is back now. "We're going to have so much fun next year! We haven't lived in the same house in years. It will be like coming home."

Madge squeezes my shoulder, which she still has in her grip. "See? Everything works out." She pushes her body against mine, swaying our bodies in a comrade sort of way and says, "I'm sorry I have to leave you, Kitty-Kat." I flinch at the nick-name, annoyed that she's reverted to a name she only uses when she's trying to reason with me. "But we had to know this would happen someday."

I sigh and nod, not trusting myself to speak. So I sit here and enjoy the feel of Madge's arm around me and the idea that Prim is moving in with me. I'm not overly thrilled with the idea of Madge leaving me behind, but the fact that Prim will be moving in to take over is a balm to my wounds. At least it will be until Prim leaves me too.

"Oh," Johanna says nonchalantly from in front of the large mirror in the corner of the room where's she's been adjusting and retouching her makeup for the last ten minutes. "I'm moving in too."

_And_  my peace is broken.

"What!" I ask, jumping off the bed in shock. I look over at Johanna, who's now applying a fresh coat of lip-gloss in the mirror and stare her down intently. "What do you mean you're moving in?"

Johanna doesn't immediately respond. Instead she nods at her reflection in the mirror, popping her lips once she's done wiggling them together to spread the lip-gloss around. Then she turns and walks to her bag to get a hair brush and starts brushing out her hair, seemingly unaware of the bomb she's just dropped.

"Prim said she was moving in with you, I asked her if she wanted to make it a three-way." She throws Prim a look that's intended to be scandalous. "And she, of course, said yes."

Johanna is saved from Prim's retort and my frantic questioning when the door to connecting our hotel rooms bursts open to reveal Gale, Rory, Finnick and Peeta. They've all changed into fresh sets of clothes, although the differences between tonight's looks and yesterdays are barely noticeable. They're all in jeans again, although Rory and Peeta are wearing black ones tonight, with obscure band t-shirts to match.

"Are you guys ready?" Gale asks. He's got a big smile on his face and I can tell by the glimmer in his eyes he's excited for tonight.

Johanna rolls her eyes. "If you even have to ask, then no, we're not."

Madge shakes her head, ready to call Johanna's bullshit, but Finnick is immediately at Johanna's side, throwing an arm around her waist jovially.

"You look beautiful, Ms. Mason," he says happily. "The vision of a rock goddess."

Johanna blushes but pushes him away, a small smile falling on her face. "Well, then I suppose we're ready."

I've been watching the exchange between Finnick and Johanna worriedly, a small pit of apprehension widening in my stomach when I look over at Peeta. He's staring at me intently, his eyes dark as he takes in what I'm wearing. I immediately move to dive for my jacket, fully intending to cover as much of my exposed skin as I can with it. But Prim is suddenly there in front of me, blocking my path with a teasing smile.

"Stop it," she hisses softly. "You look great."

"You do," Peeta says softly, his eyes now bright with amusement at my antics. "Don't be so quick to hide."

Gale lets out a loud, long chortle at this. "I never knew you had legs, Everdeen." He gives me a serious, contemplating look now though and says, "Not bad."

I flush instantly at this, far more embarrassed than I can ever remember being before. I'm struggling to find something to say, but Madge is there in a second, smacking Gale hard on the arm and giving him an only half-way serious scowl.

"You, Mr. Hawthorne, need to keep your eyes off places you wouldn't put your hands."

"Is that the rule for all of us?" Finnick asks with a wicked smile. "Because that still leaves me with a lot of options."

"Oh good grief," sighs Prim. She looks over to Rory, who's shaking his head at his brother's antics. Rory has always been the clown of the Hawthorne family but has always had the innocence to keep the jokes cleaner than his older brother.

"Welcome to my life," he says, his lips lifting up into a goofy half-smile.

Gale seizes his brother in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles on Rory's head with pressure hard enough to make the boy squirm. "You're lucky to be here at all, little brother."

Rory finally manages to wiggle free, shoving his brother so hard that he nearly falls over from the force of it. "Please," he sighs. "Without me, you wouldn't have a band at all."

Peeta grins, his tone joking at he says, "Like drummers are hard to find in California."

Rory throws his hand at Peeta, dismissing the jab. "I work cheap and I was on a plane only two hours after the call." He gives Prim a wide smile. "That's dedication, there."

"Oh, please," Finnick sighs. He comes over and takes my hand, pulling me toward the door of the hotel. "Stop panting over each other's dicks and let's go. We've got a show to do."

I let Finnick pull me along, enjoying the feel of his rough hand in mine, but I look back to check that everyone's following. Johanna looks a little put out that Finnick didn't grab  _her_  hand, but I can't help thinking that this will help keep her cool when it comes to any attraction she's harboring for the man. But Prim's slung her arm through Johanna's and is giving her a smile that you just can't help return. Gale's got his arm wrapped around Madge's waist and he's steering her along behind us, leaving Peeta and Rory to follow. I lock eyes with Peeta momentarily. He gives me a brief, shy smile, but his eyes are glittering with something more feral than what I'd expected, his eyes flickering quickly to Finnick's and my joined hands. I tilt my head at him, curious over what he's thinking, but I don't say anything. Instead I make myself ignore the look and the feelings it sends coursing down my spine and turn back to see where Finnick is dragging me, which is apparently the elevator.

Finnick and I are the first to arrive at the sleek gold doors of the high-speed elevator that will drop us quickly down 20 flights, and idea that makes me more nervous than I'll ever admit out loud. He punches the 'down' arrow smoothly, then leans up against the wall in a way I'm sure he thinks is very cool. The others are just catching up to us when the elevator dings, announcing its arrival. We all shuffle in, wordless except for Prim's and Johanna's inane babble that dominates the space and prevents anyone from putting in another word.

And somehow, even though he'd been at the back of the group, Peeta manages to get himself wedged in beside me in the back of the elevator. Eight bodies isn't the most cramped I've ever been in an elevator, but I feel almost claustrophobic as I become hyper aware of his body standing so near to mine. He's standing closer than he needs to, leaning over me in a way that sends shivers down my spine. I can appreciate how broad and strong his body when it's so close to me, the width of it making me think things I shouldn't, like how it would feel to be wrapped in his arms.

And this puts me straight into a sour mood. What business does he have standing so close to me and making me think such irrational thoughts? A part of me wonders if Madge has been too forthcoming with Gale about my dry spell, and if Gale has shared this information with Peeta, it would explain why he insisted on doing things that made my body sing in anticipation, regardless of any rational thought I tried to push on it.

"Enjoy your shower?" Peeta asked softly. His breath tickles my neck, and I have to close my eyes to concentrate on  _not_  thinking about how close his lips could be to my skin.

"Yes," I say curtly, taking a small step forward and away from him and his appealing body heat. "Thank you."

"Good." And then I think I can hear a smile in his voice as he says teasingly, "You sure smell better than you did earlier."

Oh my God. He didn't just comment on my  _body odor_.

"Well," I hiss at him as I throw a glare over my shoulder at him. "Maybe you shouldn't stand so close to me."

"We're in an elevator, Kitty," he says in a mock covert tone, his eyes twinkling with mirth at my angry reaction to the hated nickname. "We kind of have to stand together."

I look pointedly at the empty space on the other side of the elevator between Gale and Finnick, but Peeta doesn't move. Instead, he chuckles low under his breath, which continues tickling my neck just behind my ear. I think to turn around and risk locking eyes with him just so I can tell him off, but the elevator quickly comes to a smooth stop and the doors open. Finnick and Rory push forward ahead of everyone eagerly, and soon we've left the elevator behind and are moving into the hotel lobby. And so I don't get another chance to reprimand Peeta because we're immediately ushered into another limo by a tall, broad man in a suit. And then there's too much champagne to drink to leave much room for telling him off anytime soon. I throw down two glasses in quick succession, enjoying the fuzzy feeling that dampens my nerves. Between the crowd at the festival and Peeta's lingering stare I'm going to need every drop of liquid courage I can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help me spread the word on tumblr and follow me, I'm simplyabbeycat.
> 
> Thanks again to my amazing beta Court81981 who is always a source of encouragement and praise, even when I think I've spewed out utter crap. Guys, it wouldn't be that good looking without her help. Also a special thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are awesome.
> 
> I'm going to try and get a few more chapters cranked out to my lovely beta Court81981 and maybe we'll get an early update up next week in addition to the Friday one. Reviews are the best source of encouragement, so help me make it happen everyone.
> 
> Kisses and Love, everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> So...this fic kind of got away from me. I'm currently writing Kindled Ember, which is a more serious, post-mockingjay fic I've been wanting to write for a long time. It's a story near and dear to my heart that I just have to tell, but unfortunately stuff like this has no place in it. So this was supposed to sort of be a drabble for myself to vent all of my sexual frustrations for "Kindled Ember" into...but, as can happen, the little shit evolved into a full-fledged story. Once I hit 45 pages I realized I not only had to post it, but it was going to be a short-story instead of a one-shot.
> 
> And so I bring you "Seize Me" :)
> 
> In case anyone is a crazy person like me and needs music to go with the story, I kind of envisioned a song similar to "Famous" by Puddle of Mudd as the first song their band plays. For the second one, I was inspired by "Shackled" by Vertical Horzion. Oh, and yes, I am a 90s child :)
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr, you'll find me under the name "simplyabbeycat" over there.
> 
> Love and kisses!


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